See You For What You Are
by IceAndFireFinallyTogether
Summary: "A transference of memory and emotion. It is a song of ice and fire." Named after the theme song. Jon and Daenerys starting from the scene in episode 6, a more detailed version and some missing scenes. Sorrow, struggle, longing, love... Rating changed, will go on with the events of the finale and onward.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: My Queen**

Since the day they met, even at first glance, it was blatantly obvious that Daenerys Targaryen was a true Dragon, strong and fierce, with fire in her gaze that burned brighter than the sun. Jon Snow had experienced the force of her look, had been awed by the royal power that she exuded with every breath. He had witnessed her strong will and her brave, untameable spirit, he had come to admire her authority and determination and he owed his life to her now.

The courageous Queen had risked everything, her three precious dragons, herself, to come to their rescue. She came as a vision, striking, both beautiful in appearance and majestic in action. Dragon fire had spread around them, had engulfed and shredded the dead and the ice surrounding them. She had descended on her magnificent dragon and had burnt their enemies in a display of power far more heroic than any man had ever seen.

Fire surrounded them. A fire so hot, so feared by many, was now their salvation.

It was the most glorious sight that Jon had ever witnessed, his heart soaring at seeing this beautiful woman, this powerful Queen, arriving just in time to save them all. Her dragons were already destroying hundreds, suddenly the Army of the Dead not seeming so unstoppable after all. They made it look easy even.

The moment that her eyes met his, Jon Snow understood that there was so much more that he hadn't let himself admit. Feelings that he hadn't been able to place had surged into his heart. But this was not the time, nor the place for that sort of thoughts.

That had seemed to be the thing he had kept saying to himself ever since he met her.

'There is no time for that...'

Instinctively, he had run up to her, wanting nothing more than to accept her extended hand in desperation and fly away on her dragon, but he was still determined to protect the others and so, with a promise in his eyes, he kept battling the few dead soldiers that escaped the dragon fire.

Then, dread took over him, a fear so strong that he felt it in every fibre of his body. A piercing, most agonizing screech echoed loudly, his eyes catching the ice spear roaring through the air and slicing right through one of the flying dragons. The creature fell, blood gushing heavily in the air behind him, his brothers roaring back in heartbreaking pain.

It was something unheard of. Tragic.

Daenerys's eyes followed her beloved child falling from the sky, to his death. Her heart stopped, her mind not being able to process the tragedy that was unfolding before her eyes. The last screeching sound that Viserion made would forever be imprinted in her mind. She wanted to scream with him, wanted to jump down to his rescue, to SAVE him, but her body would not listen to her, frozen.

Frozen in utter shock and fear.

Fear.

The Queen was not used to being afraid. Fear was not something she thought she would experience. She didn't think that she would ever be afraid of anything. And it wasn't fear for her own life, it was far worse. She feared for the lives of her children, for the life of the brave hero that she had come to rescue.

The most agonizing moment of her life unfolded as she watched as one of her children crashed on the ice and slowly sunk to his watery grave. She saw his eyes close one last time. No one moved, no one could, paralyzed in sheer stupefaction. No action would matter now. No words could have made any difference for her.

The first to react was Jon, his rage fuelling him on as he started towards the Night King, wanting nothing more than to drive his sword through him and end him once and for all.

He remembered most clearly how the Nigh King was about to deliver the second spear. He remembered the moment that he realized just how much she had risked and how much he was willing to let go – for her.

He yelled in despair that they go, he tried to make it, but he knew he wouldn't, he watched her, watched how she looked at him. She didn't want to leave him, but she could not lose another dragon. Her suffering was already abysmal.

The greatest battle had been held within her heart, after all.

Jon Snow had sunk in that icy lake along with her dragon and Daenerys could only try and keep the rest of them safe. Only she knew the war waging inside her soul as she surged in the air, her eyes still searching for any sign of him. She felt the cold wind harshly as another spear flew right past her, the most important thing then being to get Drogon and the other men safely back and hope that, by some miracle, Jon would return to her.

She couldn't have lost him too.

She suffered and waited. She looked on from the high wall as her remaining children wailed for their fallen brother and flew high up. Her eyes were searching for a sign that Jon would come back. The cold wind of winter was nauseating, the fear that he would not come – great- but she hoped, she waited.

Since her dragons were born, she had always been strong, fearless, determined, powerful, but she had also never thought it possible for them to be vulnerable. Now she didn't know what to do, how to react, how to come to terms with what had happened. She felt raw and exposed. It felt as though the harsh breath of Winter was seeping into her veins.

Daenerys Targaryen mourned her beloved dragon as she had mourned the loss of her unborn child.

Solace.

That was what she wanted to feel. And only by seeing him again would she find it. He was her ally, she didn't want to lose him, but also... She cared for him. Deeply.

It was never what she had intended, nor what she had thought when she had first met him.

The King in the North was nothing like the other men that bent to her will and bowed before her. Jon Snow had been in open rebellion since they first met, stubborn and unwavering in his quest for her alliance. He had challenged her and infuriated her at times, had never given up his honesty, even though his ideals were not in sync with her own in the beginning. He was courageous and reckless, a true leader in battle, heroic, inspiring, a man worthy to be called King.

She both admired and hated him for it.

Since they saw each other first, she had seen something in him, she liked being challenged, enjoyed his powerful presence, the passion with which he spoke. She had ended up supporting him even before she had seen how true his words had been, how real the threat. She trusted him.

A trust that weighted more than her Hand's advice, his plea, for her not to go Beyond the Wall.

She supposed she was just as reckless as him in the end...

* * *

When he pulled himself out of the water, when he grabbed his sword, when he was ready to fight till his last breath, he thought of her. He thought that at least she was safe, at least she knew now. She would convince everyone else and they would fight for her, they would follow her in battle and she would defeat the Night King. He trusted that everyone will see how brave she is and that she is the only one that could actually change something, the one that could save them, the one true Queen.

His body would not last long in the cold and against the dead, he wanted to run, he wanted to fight, he wanted to get back to her, but he knew he wouldn't be able to. His mind was hazy. It was all a blur when his uncle Benjen appeared and lifted him up on the horse and sent him to Eastwatch. He was baffled and forever grateful to his uncle. As much as he could, he stayed awake, but in the end, his body was too tired and darkness came over his eyes.

* * *

Daenerys was a Queen, she didn't need to stay with him, but how could she not?

The moment she had seen him get carried back by a horse, she knew. She could start breathing properly again.

She watched him get put to bed, his men hurrying to pry the frozen clothes off him and making him warm again. They were even quicker in leaving once they heard her demand and saw the haunted look in her eyes. She had a glimpse at the deep scars that marred his chest, Ser Davos's words coming back to her "He took a knife in the heart, he died for his people".

He was definitely different, stupidly brave, indeed.

So she sat down on the bed, next to him, watching, for who knows how long, silently listening to his ragged breathing. The world outside didn't matter in that moment, she just wanted to look at him, to see the colour return to his skin, to see his chest moving, to know that he was breathing.

That he was alive.

She was relieved. He was safe, he would recover.

Tears threatened to spill from her eyes and she had not the power to hold them back. Now she could allow herself to grieve, to join her other dragons in mourning their beloved brother.

There was no one there to see, no one to consider her vulnerable for crying, no one to witness the Queen's weakness, her distress. She hadn't thought she would suffer as much as when Drogo and her child died, but the pain was almost greater now because she had thought it impossible. One of her dragons – dead.

In the stillness of the room, the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, a woman who was so powerful, a woman that was respected and adored and feared – shattered to pieces. A few warm tears fell onto her frozen face, trails of fire and pain.

What a strange feeling.

She hadn't cried in so long, she wished she never would have to do so again. It was so much sorrow, so much heartache. Too much, too great. The cries of her two remaining children echoed her own misery, her eyes peering out the window and seeing them flying far away. They were already sailing back to Dragonstone, the world hadn't stopped just as she had felt it had. They were still at war, they still had a long way to go. And through it all, the sadness, the ache in her veins, she was resolute, she would fight and defeat the Night King.

But in these moments she didn't know what to do with herself, a sob escaping her lips, her hand muffling it. There was no one near to hear her, but even if they were, they would understand.

Her eyes landed back on the man that was still unconscious, naked under the furs, so his scars were visible, the chest of a true warrior, a commander. Her conversation with Tyrion came back to her. She had been angry at Jon Snow for being heroic, still thought that what he had done was equally brave and stupid.

But had she not done the same?

A shadow of a smile curved her lips. Yes, she had been stupid and brave and it had cost her the life of Viserion, but she had also saved the life of those men, the life of Ser Jorah and the life of the King in the North. Also, it had saved their chances at convincing Cersei to accept the truce, and, thus them getting to wage war on the White Walkers.

Unconsciously, her hand had rested over Jon's scars, her palm flat against his chest, gathering strength from feeling his heart beating. She had been so lost in thought that she didn't notice the calmness that had settled over her grieving heart. It was good to have something to rely on, to not feel alone. Pulling her hand back, she gently wiped her tears, committing the moment to memory, it would remain in her heart, next to the memories of the death of her son and husband. To be cherished, to intensify her fire and give her strength.

A piece of her heart would be forever gone along with Viserion, but she still had a war to wage and she wanted this to be her drive, she would still have the power of three magnificent dragons, only that one would be from the deepest depths of her soul. Her connection to her children was stronger than even death itself.

Her attention returned to Jon, she enjoyed watching him rest, he looked serene and it calmed her, too.

His body was marked with scars, his battles embedded on his skin, yet he was only more fearless and driven into war. She remembered the vastness of the Army of the Dead, she had seen it from above and it terrified her. Yet, he had faced them before, and survived. She wondered how many of these scars were left by the dead and how many not...

Fingers trembling, nervous, she joined her hands in her lap, her emotions chaotic, but always returning to worry. She wanted him to wake, to talk to her, to be assured that he was fine. Time was not something she had kept track of, only the light coming from the window letting her know that it was daytime.

When he came to, eyes heavy, his vision blurry, the only thing he saw was her. Beautiful silver hair simmering in the sunlight, he saw that she was standing on the bed with him, her hands tightly clasped into her lap. His gaze met hers and the most painful thing to witness were her teary eyes, reddened by the grief and despair. It all came back to him, the agonizing screech of her dragon, the loss that he could not possibly imagine getting over.

How could he ever repay her for this enormous sacrifice?

Daenerys felt blood rush back into her the moment that Jon's eyes opened. It was alleviating to see him wake. Fresh tears brimmed her eyes, this time tears of relief. No words escaped her mouth. She wasn't sure she could speak, but her eyes conveyed how good it was to see him, a new wave of warmth, intense and persistent.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." This was all that he could think of to say, his brow furrowed, feeling her pain, hoping that somehow, she understood just how much he meant those words.

Watching her like this, so heartbroken, was breaking his heart, too. She didn't care that he saw her so unguarded, so raw, she needed the comfort and he was so sincerely saddened, that it didn't matter that she was supposed to be strong and fearless. She would allow herself to be vulnerable with him.

Her lip trembled, new sorrow flooding her at seeing a man so concerned for her, so selfless that even if he was the one that had suffered physically, he still comforted her. Eyes downcast, he still saw how hard it was for her to show vulnerability and he was struck by how delicate she looked, he just wanted to protect her, to take away her pain.

Jon reached out for her hand and held on tightly. He was not very good with words, he couldn't begin to understand her suffering, but he would do anything in his power to alleviate her sorrow.

Daenerys smiled slightly, the action of Jon taking her hand giving her comfort. It was strange, his hand now was warmer than hers, his skin raspier, but still so soft. She watched their intertwined hands and smiled, still at a loss for words, but now strong enough to meet his gaze.

"I wish I could take it back. I wish we'd never gone." He confessed, regret pouring from within his heart.

His eyes were so dark, so full of emotion, so fervent, so full of sadness. She took a deep breath, a chill running down her spine as she processed his words. She didn't blame him, she wanted to make sure he knew.

"I don't. If we hadn't gone, I wouldn't have seen. You have to see it to know. Now I know."

With every word, she was more resolute, she had needed to see that it was all true...the impending war with the dead. Her eyes were fierce, still red and teary, but intense, filled with determination that the death of her child would not be in vain. It was his turn to watch, silently as she opened up to him.

"The dragons are my children. They're the only children I'll ever have. Do you understand?"

Another wave of tears threatened to fall, but she willed herself not to cry. She wanted him to understand, she was confessing something that she had not dared talk about since her child died. Her pain from her now two lost children was clearly reflected in her eyes. She could never have children. That is why her dragons were all she had.

They were her family, her only family.

She would not have successors, she would not carry a child, she was cursed and she was to be the end of the Targaryen bloodline.

The aching of that truth, she bore with her, it was something that she had come to terms with, but now...it was too raw, too real, saying it out loud.

Jon looked down, he couldn't bear to see her like this, so powerless. How could she be so strong after all that she had been through? He had heard her confession when they first met, had seen her fire when she declared that faith in herself had gotten her through all and he knew, she was a true Queen, a most formidable woman.

"We are going to destroy the Night King and his army. And we'll do it together. You have my word."

Completely baffled by her, Jon watched in awe as she returned from her grief with even more strength and resolution. He swallowed hard, now, his turn at being speechless. What could he say to convey just how strongly he felt? To let her know how much he appreciated, not only her might, but her openness toward him.

"Thank you, Dany."

Daenerys chuckled, not sure what she had expected, but pleasantly surprised by the way that he addressed her, without the need for titles and formality.

" 'Dany'? Who was the last person who called me that? I'm not sure. Was it my brother? Mm, not the company you want to keep."

She was getting carried away, so comfortable in his presence that she didn't even mind the thought of her lost brother. A sliver of laughter in her sea of sadness. How had he managed that?

"All right. Not 'Dany'."

Jon gazed longingly at her, his heart racing, he had taken a leap calling her simply Dany and was pleased that she didn't seem to mind the disregard of any formal title. In that split moment he knew what he had glimpsed at before, what he had felt, he could no longer deny. He saw her for who she was.

"How about 'my queen'?"

Jon's hoarse voice seemed to echo in her heart. This she had not expected. Daenerys was stricken by the ardour with which he laced those words, his tone imposing, giving even more meaning to his words. His dark eyes were so sincere and full of emotion. That look that she gave him said it all. She wasn't expecting that, she was surprised and the tenderness in her eyes was all that he had hoped to see.

"I'd, uh, bend the knee, but..."

He continued, looking down at his body.

"What about those who swore allegiance to you?"

She couldn't accept that just as is, because she had understood his reasoning before. She respected him and she could see why the Northmen had pledged themselves to him, why he was deserving of the title of King. She had not gone Beyond the Wall with the intention of saving them so that he would have to bend the knee, but, by the look in his eyes and his next words, she knew that he had other reasoning.

"They'll all come to see you for what you are."

In that moment, eyes locked with his and millions of emotions coursing through her, she held back fresh tears, her hand reaching to grab his tightly. She moved slowly, her hand fitting so perfectly within his. He was her anchor right then and she couldn't express just how much his words meant to her.

Jon looked at her, eyes not wavering from hers until they travelled to their joint hands. It was so surreal, her touch so delicate, but strong, he never wanted to let go. How could a simple touch like that make him feel so much? She was about to cry again, so many sensations assaulting her in such short time, she didn't know what to do with them. But this was a warmth that she welcomed, a feeling she gladly accepted and rejoiced in.

Her thumb was drawing small circles on his hand as he squeezed back in comfort and longing. He was not only yielding his power, but they were sharing control with that simple touch.

"I hope I deserve it."

She responded in the only way she could, now seeing this honourable King trust her to such depths. Jon's eyes portrayed exactly how much he trusted her, how much he felt for her.

"You do."

And he looked at her with such fervour, his eyes were burning deeply into hers, such strong sentiment reflected in them that it shook her to her core. He held onto her hand tighter, the moment turning into so much more. It was all conveyed in their eyes. They didn't have to speak another word...they didn't know how to say it, but their eyes spoke for them.

Longing for something that they barely knew...

They had gone a long way, this moment reshaping their whole worlds. It was with such intensity that they looked at each other, with such intimacy from just a simple touch that it unnerved them both. It was all so new, so consuming, their connection so heated and passionate that she almost feared it.

Daenerys had never felt something so intense, so deeply, she didn't know how to name it, but she saw it reflected right back at her in Jon's eyes.

 **Thank you for reading! I would appreciate your thoughts on this story. I wanted to add more details to this beautiful scene, I felt like we deserved more and I will continue with the events in the finale in other chapters or as one shots, depending on your thoughts.**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

Silence stretched between them.

The mood had shifted and they were entranced. How had it come to this?

Daenerys knew it in her heart that she had come to care deeply about this Jon Snow. So deeply, indeed, that she feared it may consume her. She was a dragon, she was fire, but here she was...melting, burning under his dark gaze.

Did he even know what he was doing to her with that one fervid look?

Equally, he was enticed. No words came to his lips anymore; air could barely pass, as he inhaled her scent. He wanted to take her in his arms, wanted her to lay her head on his chest, to hold her tight and not have to let go. He wanted to do so much more to her. _With_ her.

But 'There was no time for that'

He had said those words to Ser Davos, yet here he was, time stretching into infinity as he simply held Daenerys's hand. In that moment, there certainly seemed to be plenty of time.

Seeing the shuddering of his chest as he inhaled deeply, she became aware just how she had neglected his need for repose. Now that she saw with her own eyes that he was well, he needed to regain strength; he needed to focus on his recovery, not on her. She would not even think of her own tired body because she knew that sleep wouldn't come to her.

But her presence here, with him, was a distraction from his recovery, it was very much a distraction for her, too.

"You should get some rest"

Jon's face fell a little at hearing those words. He wanted nothing more than to ask her to stay. They could rest together. He already had imagined all the things that they could do together...resting, not being one of the first on his mind.

He looked at her, still debating whether to tell her to stay, but he saw just how tired she was. While he had been unconscious, she had stayed awake; she had not had any rest. She was the one that needed to sleep. Resigned, he nodded, seeing that she was already standing.

She was still flustered, she had shown him so much of her soul, she had bared herself for him and it had taken its toll on her. Exhausted, she found she had no more words, not now at least. They would have time to talk after he had been rested and out of danger's way.

As she made her way out of the room, she hoped she would not come face to face with anyone. She wanted to be alone. And she was, for a whole two steps, until Ser Davos appeared in the hallway. He bowed to her and she was certain that he wanted to say something. He always seemed to have something to say.

She liked the man, and, in any other circumstances, she would gladly talk to him, but she was not in the right frame of mind for any conversation. The look in her eyes was enough for him to understand. He was a wise old man, even seemed to fear her in some measure, as, without her having to say anything, he stepped aside, bowing his head, not daring to bother her.

* * *

Jon definitely could not fall back asleep. He was staring at the door, his thoughts only on their conversation, on her. His heart was still beating fast, his body overworked, still aching, but he didn't mind it. She had left him baffled by all that she had told him, but even more so by how she had looked at him.

When the door opened, his eyes shot back, hoping that it was her. He could almost see where their next meeting would take them, but, instead of beautiful long, silver hair, his eyes were met by short, thinning, white hair. He almost laughed at the sight of Ser Davos.

"Your Grace?"

Funny for him to insist on calling him that. The old man was Jon's most trusted advisor, but most of all, his friend. There was no need for titles between them, but Ser Davos was almost as stubborn as him.

"How are you feeling?"

At that question, he did laugh, a throaty, sad laugh. He had no idea how he felt.

"Ah, yes. No need to explain."

"How long?" Jon asked; his throat sore.

"We are to arrive at Dragonstone tonight, your Grace. It was a long journey you missed."

Jon furrowed his brows. If he was adding up the days right, then they had left two days ago. That meant that Daenerys had stood almost two full days at his side. Surprise was clearly written on his face, as Ser Davos smiled.

"Aye, the Queen stood here for two days. She was quite frightening when she told us to leave. We left food by the door, no one dared to enter, but she did not leave your side. Stubborn and unflinching, a Queen, indeed."

The old man had a knowing glint in his eyes, not needing to expand on his ideas. Jon smiled, she truly was something else. She was worth everything that he would most probably be facing back in Winterfell now that he had bent the proverbial knee to her.

* * *

When they reached Dragonstone, he didn't see her. Jon was helped by Ser Davos into his chambers, already night outside. They had planned a council the moment they arrived and he was to get dressed and head there.

Daenerys left the boat first, her three guards following her silently. No one uttered a word, not even Tyrion and Missandei when she passed them on the shore. They knew. They also knew she wanted to be alone. No words would make a difference. She wanted no words of regret, no looks of sadness. And they all knew her well enough to respect her needs.

* * *

"Our armies are on route, we shall sail together at first light tomorrow. We need to make an entrance, a display of power."

Tyrion's words rang in the room, met firstly with silence as everyone nodded, waiting for a word from the Queen. She had agreed with the plan, she would arrive riding her dragon, in a true Targaryen way. Only no one dared address if she was still inclined to do so after losing one of her dragons.

"Yes and I shall fly there, as we had discussed."

All present were once again awed by the fire in their Queen, by her strength. They didn't mention it, they needed not. But they knew; they admired her even more.

She hoped that their journey to King's Landing would not end in ruins, that Cersei would see reason, that they would get something good out of this whole ordeal. She had complete trust in both Tyrion and Jon Snow to lead a good meeting, at least this strategizing was something she was ready to face and prepared for.

Her body betrayed just how tired she was feeling, but she held her head up high and headed to her chambers. It was in vain, sleep would not come to her and she didn't want it. She didn't want to imagine what nightmares would plague her if she were to fall asleep. Already the image of the Night King and his army and her dead dragon flashed before her eyes.

So, she was pleasantly surprised and grateful that when she entered her chambers, there already was a hot bath prepared for her. Daenerys sighed, her body finally resting in the hot water, trying to wash away everything. She needed to feel warm, to focus on what she still had to do, to rule and lead.

She spent the rest of the night resting by the fire. She didn't sleep, but she rested. Looking into the flames calmed her soul and hardened her mind.

She was grateful to Missandei for knowing exactly what she had needed. She was her friend, she knew her; she was there for her, not needing to say anything. Her trusted friend stood with her, kept fires burning in the room, braided her hair and even got her to eat something. It was nice to have someone familiar with her.

"Thank you, Missandei!"

Daenerys had missed her friend and she was thankful to her for understanding that even though she didn't want to talk to anybody, she felt comfort in knowing that there was someone there with her. Missandei nodded and smiled sweetly in return.

* * *

Jon stood on the bed, eyes tired, but unable to close. He was apprehensive about the meeting tomorrow. He didn't imagine how Cersei Lannister would react, but he knew that right now, they had all that they needed to convince her, he could only hope for the best.

"Your Grace? May I come in?" Ser Davos was at the door, Jon having not even heard him.

"Of course"

"Thought you couldn't sleep, so I brought you a drink that I learned was good for the body. Made it myself."

He smiled at the old man, sincerely grateful for all that he had done for him. Drinking the questionably looking liquid, he settled back into bed. He was really tired, indeed, had seemed to be for a long while now, but he had to regain strength.

"Thank you!" Simple words, but he meant those, for everything.

"Aye, see you in the morn', your Grace!"

* * *

"Jon!" A whispered moan echoed through the candle lit chamber, her voice hoarse and breathy. His lips were on her skin, both their bodies naked, touching, burning.

She held herself up on her knees, legs on either side of his, scorching gaze meeting his eyes, violet eyes glowing passionate and possessive. Jon could not believe it, his fingers almost reverently coming to caress her thighs, upwards until finally settling on her hips.

Daenerys placed her hands on his shoulders as she steadied herself, breathing shallow as she felt Jon's hands tighten on her lower back. She pulled him closer, fingers threading through his hair, their faces so close they were breathing each other in.

Intimate, lingering, she kissed him.

His lips burned under hers, but in the most exquisite way; her lips so lush and sweet that he lost himself in their softness and taste, his teeth nipping at them. Then, she was licking across his parted lips sensually and he felt her fire spreading through his veins. Groaning, he deepened the kiss, eating away at her mouth, his tongue slipping inside her mouth to tease her with gentle caresses.

Still not united completely, but already assaulted by so much pleasure. His hands moved, explored her soft skin, bringing her body closer to his. One of his hands was holding her up, fingers digging into the flesh of her ass possessively while his other arm was wrapped around her back, tightly, longingly, never wanting to let her go.

She pulled back, more than a little flushed and smiled mischievously at him as she lifted herself up, moving her body with such wanton grace that Jon was left utterly frozen as she impaled herself on him.

A moan escaped her lips; her head tipped back, long silver hair cascading beautifully behind her, savouring the sensation of being so thoroughly filled by him. Jon held onto her hips, desire and pleasure all together soaring through his body, as a throaty groan left his lips.

Daenerys was a vision, her body a masterpiece and he couldn't get enough. Her eyes were boring into his, drawing him in and drowning him in desire. Feeling himself engulfed in her heat, her chest still so tightly pressing against his, hearts thudding in sync it was almost too much.

He watched as unbridled passion burned in her gaze. She swivelled her hips in circles, still watching him as her lower body started moving with such teasingly slow lifts that it drove him insane. Still, he was savouring every bit of the friction their bodies created. Her breasts were gliding over his chest, so soft and warm, her fingers tugging at his hair.

His hands guided her movements; she moved slowly, gliding her body onto his and he groaned every time she settled over him fully, still gripping her hips as she tightened around him. Jon brought his fingers into her luscious hair, pulling her head to the side and kissing her neck, licking, nipping as she raked her nails over his shoulders and down his back.

Their connection was primal, intense.

Her slow pace turned frenzied, moving fast up and down his length and his hands were pulling her down onto him harder every time. Her breasts, bouncing up and down, head thrown back as she quickened the pace, only made him more aroused, his mouth claiming her. He buried his face between her breasts, lips and tongue exploring.

Daenerys couldn't seem to get enough of him, her fingers bringing his head up to hers, kissing him and hands exploring the expanse of his back, drawing the contours of his muscles. His hands went under her thighs, lifting them up so that she could wrap her long legs around his waist. His thrusts were deeper now and faster, harder and she was struggling to breathe, her head resting on his shoulder, hands clasped around his neck.

He felt her lips on his neck, so ardent, so eager, teeth scraping over his skin. She was a dragon, indeed, wild and untamed, all heated kisses and sultry bites. He was adrift, engulfed by her fire and sensuality. Yet, he was right there with her, hungry, craving, passionate.

"Dany…" His whispered plea for her, for more- echoed, her eyes rising to meet his, a shuddering breath escaping her trembling lips.

Jon held her as her body shook, her eyelids heavy from the surge of pleasure as his hips raised to meet her moves, his gaze unwavering from hers. There was reverence in the passionate way he enjoyed her, the unmistakable sense that he worshipped her body, worshipped _her,_ that pleasuring her and taking pleasure from her was as vital to him as the blood in his veins.

He felt it in the depth of his heart, the longing, the sentiment that he couldn't name...

Then he woke, heaving, his head spinning as he looked around.

The chamber was still dark, his eyes adjusting slowly, but he saw that there was no one next to him in bed. His heart yearned for it to have been true.

It had been so vivid, so powerful that he almost wanted to search his body for the bite marks and scratch marks, he could still feel them if he closed his eyes. But it had all been a dream...a dream that would plague his thoughts with flashes of soft, delicate skin, long silver hair and the violet fire of her eyes.

 **Thank you for reading!**

 **I decided to add little snippets that I thought could have taken place in between the scenes in the finale. You tell me how it has worked so far.**

 **I'll likely break up the scenes in more chapters, definitely needed to up the rating to M because I just couldn't resist until the actual scene on the boat. The story will go onward, slowly as we are in no rush, so I will be addressing them finding out the truth, but later, they will get to enjoy that boat ride to the fullest, seeing as season 8 is so far away.**

 **I would love to hear your thoughts on this, loved getting your reviews, they are really motivating, so please keep them coming!**

 **P.S: SPOILER: No fermented crab was involved in the making of Jon's drink.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: We're fucked**

Looking back from the ship onto the shore, Dragonstone was magnificent beyond a doubt, a lonely citadel in the wet waste surrounded by storm and salt, no longer glum, with the two real Dragons perched on top, their beautiful Mother between them.

Daenerys was looking out onto the sea, her two children resting at her side. It had been a long time since she simply stood with them, hands slowly caressing them. She missed being able to hold them into her arms, in comfort for her as well as for them.

She watched the red and black colours of House Targaryen, sails on the ships, proudly spread in the wind, a lone silhouette distinctly looking back.

Jon stood on deck, wind blowing his cape and the fur on his shoulders. They were headed for warmer lands, yet, he had not forgone his usual attire. He had wanted to at least have that one familiar thing on him, seeing as he was headed towards something so uncommon, so unknown to him.

He could see her even from afar, her long silver hair shining in the first rays of light. His mind produced memories of his dream, body already humming with the thought of her. Jon couldn't deny he had imagined how she would be in bed. In his mind, the Queen would have definitely been commanding, ever in control, subjugating him with her fire.

He didn't know when he had started having those thoughts. Maybe even from the very beginning. That woman was striking, it was no wonder that his mind and body had worked together to build the explicit dream that had shaken him to his core.

He was not experienced in affairs of the body, yet his body seemed to yearn to be consumed by her. He most definitely would enjoy that.

Jon was used to having his mind plagued with only thoughts of war and battle. Yet here he was, his body betraying his human nature, his primal impulses. And who could blame him? He had been tormented in the best of ways with everything that was about her.

Daenerys was born to rule, exuding authority and power, her attitude queenly, indeed, extraordinary, yet she still had more sympathy for her people, she cared for them more than any other ruler had before. Her sense of justice and honour were what had brought so many followers, so many people to pledge to her, to respect her and support her cause.

Jon had seen all that, had been hit full force by her glorious presence and had seen how everyone around her looked at her, _looked up at her_. Yet he had also seen the way she still listened to her advisors, treated everyone back with respect. Then, he had witnessed her might, her fearlessness and even recklessness as she had saved him. He still was surprised by how, even seeing more of her, knowing her better, he was not able to predict anything that she would do.

A thrilling mystery - she was nothing like he would have expected, she was remarkable, astounding, the personification of fire itself.

"Beautiful view, isn't it?"

Tyrion's voice interrupted Jon's thoughts. The Queen's Hand - ever observant and sharp-witted.

Of course there was room for interpretation; it had clearly been his intention all along.

"Aye, it is." Jon replied, not wanting to fall into his verbal trap.

He thought for a moment. Thought about how beautiful the view was, indeed. And then it caught up to him - realisation that it would have been an even more beautiful view if all three of her Dragons would be there, if she wouldn't have lost one...because of him.

"You blame me..." Jon said, his eyes still unwavering from the shore.

He had waited – _wanted-_ for someone to say something, to hold him liable for what had happened, to tell him how stupid he had been, how it was his fault that Daenerys had lost so much. He blamed himself; he still couldn't understand how she had not.

"I was _angry_ at you. Then I realized that it had been _my_ idea to bring proof to my sister. And now I blame myself..."

Tyrion replied, his voice low. He hadn't talked about it yet, with anyone. Seeing only two dragons along their mother now, he felt the true force of his guilt.

It unnerved him. Daenerys had been reckless and brave, but stupid just how she had criticised 'this' Jon Snow for being a hero.

It was one of the reasons that he had not suggested, as they had first thought coming to Westeros, an alliance by marriage. He had seen that there was much more than political strategy developing between them from the beginning. And it was already causing so much trouble.

It was affecting Daenerys, it was affecting her judgement. Proof to that none other than her dead dragon.

Tyrion knew that he couldn't stop them from being together, no one and _nothing_ probably could; they were both too stubborn.

And they were, very likely, already madly in love.

He wouldn't say it was convenient, quite the opposite, in fact, but he had not the power, nor the heart to stop them.

Indeed, she was too important, so, as her Hand, Tyrion saw how problematic it was; yet, as a friend he didn't know how he felt, but he certainly saw, along with everyone else around them that they were falling in love.

The two men stood there, unmoving, silent, musing. Both their thoughts were revolving along the same things, same _person_. They both wanted what was best for her, first and foremost, yet both prepared in their own ways for having to argue with her every step of the way, to not let her lose anymore. She had proven to be unpredictable, yet, Tyrion was the one that made her see reason, he knew how hard it had been for her to come all this way and he wanted to make sure she would survive through it all so that she could break the wheel.

There were two options: either her love for Jon Snow would be her most powerful leverage or the fastest route to her demise.

Such thoughts, though, Tyrion only allowed to come after his fifth or sixth glass of wine and this early in the morning, he could not bear them.

Tyrion didn't _need_ to express his every thought, all the time, contrary to popular belief. He knew he was good with words, it was what he excelled at, even had been known to cite himself occasionally.

But he rather enjoyed the company, not feeling the need to fill the silence. The bastard of Winterfell- now King in the North- was the most honourable man he knew, he admired that about him. Jon was a fighter, a leader, truly a hero, yet, as he himself had admitted, at times a little foolish. And one thing Jon might not be aware of himself was that he was completely, absolutely in love with Daenerys.

"She's much stronger than both of us, you know." Jon chuckled.

Tyrion's silence had been unexpected, but he had been certain that it would be short lived.

"Aye, she is."

Jon couldn't agree more. A Queen like no other that the Seven Kingdoms had ever seen before.

"Here we are brooding on a ship as we wait days to get from one place to another and she is riding Dragons and burning armies."

Tyrion Lannister- a man of _many_ words. Drinking more than double his weight in wine, a day, he still kept a good, clear judgement...good enough to be Hand of the Queen, not for his sister, but for Daenerys Targaryen.

Jon, on the other hand, did not talk much- he had always let his actions speak for himself. But he liked listening to Tyrion. The man definitely had a way with words.

"A wise man once said only a fool would think he is the most powerful man in Westeros."

At only hearing him start, Jon chuckled wholeheartedly. Surely that 'wise man' was none other than Tyrion Lannister.

"Save your words of wisdom, my Lord. You'll be needing them later."

And he truly hoped they would be wise.

"I was only saying...all the tales, the prophecies, the wise words...

'All men must die' (Valar Morghulis).

They never predicted that we would be having a meeting between the two most powerful leaders- both women."

And it was true, Jon shook his head. Of course he was aware that the struggle for power was between the two Queens and that he, essentially was also 'King', still powerful, one of the leaders. He had not wanted that title as he had not wanted the title of Lord Commander. Yet, in this battle against the dead, he wanted to lead, wanted the people to follow him. He was most of all pleased that he had gotten so much support, so much recognition, both from his people and now from Daenerys. All that was left was to have the Lannisters stand down while they fought in the North.

Still, he understood what Tyrion was implying, had no problem admitting to that. He had bent the knee, after all and acknowledged Daenerys's sovereignty, even if they were the only ones to know.

"I meant no offence, King in the North" Tyrion added, not sure if his little joke had taken well with Jon Snow.

"Aye, I know. I never was one for titles. Never wanted to be King"

 _I only ever wanted a name, not a title._ Jon continued the sentence in his mind and, somehow, he was sure that Tyrion had understood.

"That may be so, but the Northmen wanted _you_ to lead them. They believe in you, they _know_ you. You are a good leader, an honest man, _they know_ , and that is why they would die in this Great War, for _you_."

 _I still recommend bending the knee to Daenerys, but that is a talk for another moment._ Tyrion thought, a little wicked voice having repeated that into his mind for a while now. Still, it was probably best not to push it. They were having a 'moment' and he didn't want to ruin it, not even to dwell on the interactions that Jon and Daenerys were having. He didn't want to bring up all the 'eye-fucking' that had been going on between these two. Not now.

Jon Snow only looked over at him, nodding his head in silent gratitude. He didn't know how to respond, but he saw that Tyrion truly meant the words he had said.

He had bestowed upon him some words of advice before and Jon had appreciated it, had never forgotten who he was, had prevailed and proven himself to not be only a bastard, but a leader, commander and now King. He may not have wanted those titles, but he had done his best to be worthy of them. For his guidance back when they first met, he appreciated Tyrion and for his words now, even more.

Tyrion was someone that Jon had come to respect, to admire even. He saw how loyal and devoted he was to Daenerys. It was clear that Tyrion had earned her trust and he did his very best to ensure that everyone saw just how different the Targaryen was, how fitted to be Queen, to rule over the Seven Kingdoms, over them all.

He was the one thing that Jon and Daenerys had had in common - the one person that could both attest for Jon's character and Daenerys's good intentions, mediated their first meeting with only a few words and smug smiles. Tyrion had undoubtedly been a key player in their alliance.

Thanks to him, and his Queen, they now stood a chance in the Great War. Jon now had the Dragonglass, was still forging weapons, getting ready; preparing their defence. He appreciated the man's efforts and his unconventional words of wisdom.

Daenerys trusted his advice, she valued his opinions and Jon had to admit that he, too, had come to see how practical he was. Jon knew that if there was one person to even stand a chance of convincing Cersei Lannister into anything, it would definitely be Tyrion.

He had a certain flair for these things.

He seemed to be the centre of the most dangerous and important meetings, including the next one that they were to have.

Always prepared, his mind sharp and his tongue sharper.

* * *

In this Game of Thrones, one does not simply expect everything to go as planned. You always expect the worst, always prepare for it, yet...if there was ever a moment that would unite all the Houses, it had to be this. They needed to band together, to unite in order to survive.

* * *

The meeting was certainly eventful. For Tyrion it was a great opportunity to see both his brother and friends. The heroes of Blackwater Bay : Podrick, ever a pleasant surprise and Bronn, the ever stubborn and witty, not yet switching sides, but Tyrion had reiterated his offer.

For everyone else, the meeting was only tense.

The moment that they had seen Daenerys arrive, proved once again how extraordinary she was. Everyone was struck in both wonder and trepidation by her display of power, the way Drogon had descended on the Dragon Pit, the elegance and power Daenerys exhibited as she stepped down from her Dragon. Cersei's male party had been certainly awestruck, all of them standing to watch the scene, but she had kept her expression of impassivity.

After the tense moments, in which they all looked at each other and the awkwardness of the Greyjoy's not so well timed threat and interference, the meeting went well, they had shown the proof of the threat that they were facing, had seen horror replace Cersei's mask of indifference. It was clear that the Lannisters were distressed, frightened. Jon had done his part in explaining how to defeat them and now they waited...

"The Crown accepts your truce."

All of them were silent. Jon even looked around, sighing in relief. Had it really been that simple? Had they truly done it?

„In return the King in the North would extend this truce _._ He will remain in the North where he belongs. He will not take arms against the Lannisters. He will not choose sides."

And there it was. The counter-offer.

They had expected something of the sorts. Tyrion certainly had. Yet it did not seem to be so bad. Jon had gone through all of this in order to get help in the Great War, he had resisted and fought back with honour when Daenerys had asked him to bent the knee, had endured yet another fight with the White Walkers. Certainly a few words to Cersei would not be too much to ask for the greater gain.

They all knew that well thought out words, placed at the right time, said by the right person, would make a difference in political meetings of sorts.

Daenerys looked back at Cersei, surprised, as her request did not include anything about her.

"Just the King in the North? Not me?"

"I would never ask it of you. You would never agree to it and if you did I would trust you even less than I do now. I ask it only of Ned Stark's son. I know Ned Stark's son will be true to his word."

Cersei pressed, knowing that honour was what had been the end of Ned Stark, the father, now, curious of what this 'King in the North' had to say, if he was just as much of a fool.

It was a test, all of them knew. It was clear.

The faith of this meeting, of all that they had been working on, rested now on Jon Snow just agreeing. Just telling a lie. Daenerys knew, saw it in his eyes, as he looked first to Ser Davos and then to her, for guidance.

She wanted to tell him to say whatever it was that would ensure they had a truce, wanted to convey somehow that they needed this and not to do anything reckless. It was not the time to be neither reckless, nor incredibly honest.

Yet, what mattered most to Jon Snow, what had been kept only between him and Daenerys was that he had already bent the knee, he had pledged himself to her, in a moment so intimate, so _personal_ , so evocative, so important to him that he dared not taint it with lies.

No matter the cost, his loyalty lied with Daenerys and he was about to reveal that in the middle of a gathering of the most powerful rulers in the Seven Kingdoms.

(What could possibly go wrong, right?)

"I _am_ true to my word or I try to be. That's why I cannot give you what you ask. I cannot serve two queens. And I've already pledged myself to Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen."

The reaction was unanimous: Shock.

Daenerys could barely breathe, still bewildered by this loyal man, this man that had held in his hands the power to unite the whole Seven Kingdoms and that had given it all away out of loyalty for _her._

He could have lied easily, no one would have blamed him; no one had known that he had bent the knee besides her. Truly, it was a secret between them, not anything formal that would have in any way affected their current predicament, not in the official sense.

Governed by her grief and the image of the army of the dead, the fear that had struck her at seeing them, Daenerys didn't know what to think. She was both incredibly flattered by his strong loyalty, surprised by the brazen way in which he stood by his decision and unnerved by the implications that would ensue. She wanted to be angry with him, but she found she could not. In fact, she was awed by his honesty, by the sheer inability of this man to betray his vows to her.

Nevertheless, they all knew that this meeting was all going to shit. She saw the look on Cersei's face, knew that she didn't take it well, nor would want to speak about any sort of truce now.

Tyrion, on the other hand, was baffled both by the news and by the timing that Jon had picked to reveal it and cursed under his breath. _Stupid_. When had he pledged himself to his Queen? Why didn't he tell anybody? Why hadn't _she_? And most importantly, why couldn't Jon just fucking _lie?_

He might as well have kneeled and done a whole formal ceremony of bending the knee, even throw in a few words and kiss Daenerys's feet...that would still have been less of a blunt 'fuck you, Cersei'. This affronting moment would have been incredibly appreciated by Tyrion if it would not have been so unmistakeably inopportune.

"Then there is nothing left to discuss."

Cersei's answer was final. Not even glancing back, she started walking away, with her men following suit. Jaime, clearly conflicted and still astounded was discussing something with Brienne of Tarth, only a resounding 'Fuck loyalty' being heard from them. But the only thing that was clear was that they needed to find another way to talk to her, another plan.

"I wish you hadn't done that" Ser Davos decided to break the silence and it seemed to put them all in motion.

Ser Davos always had respected his King's judgement and had trusted him, his honour had been his best, strongest ally, yet, right in that moment, that had not been the best answer to that plain, deliberate challenge.

"I'm grateful for your loyalty, but my dragon died so that we could be here. If it's all for nothing, then he _died_ for nothing."

Daenerys raised from her seat, her body wound, mind catching up to what was happening. They were losing their chance at a truce. They had come all this way, lost so much, _she_ had lost _too_ much, for this to slip through their fingers so easily.

"I know" Jon couldn't even respond properly, he already knew he fucked up their meeting.

In just that one moment, he couldn't find the strength in himself to look Daenerys in the eye, knowing that he would find suffering, the pain of losing her Dragon.

It had probably not been the best time to announce where his loyalty laid and he hadn't thought it would come into discussion, but, in an impulse, he had done what his heart had told him, he had done what he had felt was _right_.

"I'm pleased you bent the knee to our Queen. I would have advised it _had you asked_ , but, have you ever considered learning how to _lie_ every now and then? Just a bit..."

Tyrion turned back to Jon, his mind already working on trying to find any other way to make his sister reconsider, to repair the damage that was done.

"I'm not going to swear an oath I can't uphold. Talk about my father if you want, that's the attitude that got him killed. But when enough people make false promises, _words stop meaning anything_ "

At saying that, his passionate gaze searched Daenerys's eyes. He tried to convey just how much he had meant those words to her, how much he respected and cared for their connection, their...bond. He wanted her to understand that he had spoken to her from the depths of his heart, that he had meant every last word that passed between them on that boat and that _she_ meant so much to him.

"Then there are no more answers only better and better lies and lies won't help us in this fight." Continuing his conversation with Tyrion, he turned back to him, knowing that he had caused a major complication in their plans, but hoping there was still something they could do.

"That is indeed a problem and the more immediate problem is that _we're fucked_."

No truer words had ever been spoken.

The situation was indeed unpromising. The only thing left to do, Tyrion knew, was yet another heroic, stupid act. They were all getting a little _too_ brave, but at least he understood why, now. He felt that need to do something. It was his time to be reckless.

"I go see my sister alone or we all go home and we're right back where we started."

* * *

 **Thanks so much for reading! I love reading your reviews and seeing that so many of you are interested in this story. It really is a strong motivation.**

 **Gotta say I had a really hard time with the dialogue between Jon and Tyrion, not knowing how to do them both justice and keep them in character. So let me know what you think about that.**

 **I don't want to rush over the meeting because it was such an epic scene and there still were so many words to be said. There still are. And the next one shall include more of that and their return to Dragonstone, a little extra scene, undoubtedly. I'm taking my time, trying my best to keep them in character, to portray all their feelings, making them interact with other characters.**

 **Hopefully, the plot that I have in mind for them is not exhausted by all the other good writers out here until I get around to it, but even so, I still plan on writing the smut in more than two-three chapters and along with that some humorous scenes with other characters, will kind of need for them to blow off A LOT of steam in this story, seeing as they have to spend quite some time on that boat, so... tell me your thoughts on that, too!**

 **Also, sorry for the long author note, needed to get that out there.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: You're not like the others**

After Tyrion had gone, the remaining people in the Dragon Pit scattered, each lost in thought.

Jon Snow slowly walked away, his mind worried, his next step unclear. He saw, further away from the centre that there were remnants, in the dust that settled over the years, various bones of different sizes, likely belonging to the Dragons that had died in this place. He was intrigued, picking up one of them and looking at it. It was so small, so unfitting to be part of a dragon, so unlike the marvellous creatures that Daenerys had.

Speaking of the Queen, she was heading towards him. He saw her and then returned his eyes to the brittle bone in his hand, not knowing what to say to her. A deep sigh escaped his lips as she stopped right next to him.

"No one is less happy about this than I am." He finally spoke up, eyes still avoiding hers.

"I know. I respect what you did. Wish you hadn't done it, but I respect it."

And she meant every word. She saw how conflicted Jon was, how he still wouldn't look at her. A shadow of a smile crossed his lips, head still bowed down when she approached him even more.

He sensed her get even closer, his body acutely aware of the little space as she extended her hand for the fragment of bone. His eyes finally looked up, taking her in, her face a mixture of longing and sorrow.

"This place was the beginning of the end for my family. 'A dragon is not a slave'. They were terrifying. _Extraordinary_. They filled people with _wonder_ and _awe_. And we locked them in here. The wasted away, grew small. And _we_ grew small as well."

Daenerys started talking, her eyes taking in their surroundings, almost as if until now she hadn't realized where they were standing. Her eyes burned with the fire of the history of her family, with so much sorrow for what they had been, for what her ancestors had _done_ , but including herself, she was talking about a 'we' even though she was so much better than them all, so much more compassionate.

Still ruthless, yes, but so distinctly protective and loving of her dragons and committed to the people. She had already proven to be different when, even at first meeting him, she had asked forgiveness from Jon for her father's sins. Jon now watched her silently, his eyes following hers, taking it all in.

They gravitated towards each other, they felt drawn, unconsciously, in a perpetual dance, their bodies moved ever closer, yet still not daring to touch.

"We weren't extraordinary without them. We were just like everyone else."

She conceded, not really having thought about how much sadness this realisation had brought to her soul. She knew the history of her family, knew the fascinating ascend to power of the first Targaryens, had thrived in knowing how much people had loved them, how they ruled with power and fire, but also knew the horrible things that the Mad King had done and even the more horrible things that had happened inside this...Dragon Pit.

Her ancestors had not only belittled themselves, but most of all had _mocked_ the power of their Dragons, had made them seem trivial. _Used_ them in _games._

That, she could not forgive. She thought about how she felt for her dragons, how she loved them beyond anything else, how she would bring fire and blood to anyone that would dare not respect them. That was what she would bring on the Night King.

Yet, she respected her ancestors, they had been her family, after all. And now, they were all gone. The mighty Targaryen bloodline was coming to an end.

She sometimes wondered what would become of her Dragons once she would die...who will take care of them, what will they do? She had had little time to think such morbid thoughts, yet, the lonely nights in Dragonstone, the nights when she had no further strategy to discuss, when not even the comfort of the burning fire would take away her fears, she would stand on the balcony and watch her children. They were everything to her and she wanted to show the world what greatness, beauty and power they had.

They were her only family, her only _legacy_.

"You're not like everyone else. And your family hasn't seen its end. You're still here."

Jon's closeness and his low voice brought her back from her musings. He had stepped even closer to her, his eyes dark and so unguarded. Daenerys smiled sadly, in the end Jon was too _good_ , maybe too naive on regard to what she had already confessed.

"I can't have children."

In her mind, the image of her stillborn flashed painfully.

"Who told you that?"

And there it was...the tone of his voice said it all. She didn't know what to make of this situation...they seemed to be getting around to talking about this a little too often. The darkened shade of his eyes was luring, the implications of his words making her heart surge.

"The witch who murdered my husband."

She had come to such an unsettling calm about her fate that it unnerved Jon.

Daenerys had been used to men looking at her with hunger and greed, trying to seduce her, yet, Jon didn't seem to want to do that. His eyes clearly flashed with ardour and craving every time he looked at her, but it was beyond that, he _cared_ for her, cared about her, wanted to know her.

"Has it occurred to you she might not have been a reliable source of information?"

She allowed a small chuckle to pass her lips because, of course, he would turn this around. She enjoyed that about him.

Jon was never one to trust stories, prophecies or legends, never thought most of the stories to be true. He only believed what he could see, hear and touch. Even so, even if he did not believe, he had been a part of more than one legendary moment. He had seen White Walkers, Dragons and most memorable of them all - his Resurrection, which had been something he still could not explain.

But he did not _live_ his life based on prophecies. He was not influenced by the legends. He had simply accepted what he saw as true and then _dealt_ with them.

That was why he was angry at her, angry in a silent way that not only he could not explain, but made him _feel_ things, especially hearing Daenerys so sadly accepting the fact that she would be the end of her bloodline, just because a witch had supposedly cursed her. He wanted to make her see, to not let her destiny be dictated by some story or prophecy or curse.

He hated to see her like that, he hated that she believed in such things to the point where she calmly admitted the inevitable demise of her family.

He just wanted her to understand that she was already reshaping history.

She was transforming legends into lies -with Dragons at her side- creatures that had not been seen in generations, thought to be extinct. _She_ had brought them back, she was rewriting prophecies. They were all marching towards a war with the dead, another mythical story, which was very much real.

It was a surprise she still believed in that curse, because, everything was changing around them.

"You were right from the beginning. If I trusted you everything would be different."

Daenerys had contemplated this, had thought about it every night since they returned from the Wall. She trusted him now, entirely, yet she had fought with herself since they met, not to put so much faith in someone she didn't know. She had been afraid, with all the history of betrayal.

She knew she couldn't change things now, nothing would bring back Viserion, but she needed to tell him, to let him see that she trusted him now. Completely.

"So what now?"

He was so close to her, he could see every speck of purple in her blue eyes. A smile graced his lips at hearing her words. But they were still at an impasse.

"I can't forget what I saw north of the Wall and I can't pretend that Cersei won't take back half the country the moment I march North."

She confessed, shaking her head because their circumstances were truly inconvenient.

"It appears Tyrion's assessment was correct. _We're fucked_."

Such coarse words hadn't escaped him before, but she chuckled wholeheartedly and absolutely agreed.

Jon hadn't heard her laugh before, had barely seen her smile, but he relished in seeing her do so now. She looked so beautiful, so carefree in that one moment – it was like the whole world did not sit on her shoulders. He longed to see happiness etched on her features more often, it suited her, most of all because she had seemed so sad for so long.

The same could be said about him. Daenerys watched as the most sincere smile appeared on his lips and she admitted it was a good look on him, not brooding all the time. They stood there, smiling, sharing yet another longing look.

Until they both heard Tyrion return.

A lion returning from the lion's den.

With good news, too.

Seemingly all had fallen right into place, their alliance formed even with the Lannisters. It was strange, they never had thought that what they had come there to achieve would indeed be done. Yet something had still bothered her, it had been too easy...

But the conviction with which Cersei had spoken, the proud way in which her brother called their banner men, the worry on their faces as they had seen the Wight, it all pointed toward them being truthful. And if Tyrion had been satisfied with his family's response, then they were, too.

The impending War was here, it was all that mattered.

* * *

Back on the boat to Dragonstone, Jon knew that he had to write back to Sansa about the new development. He could barely believe what he was writing, but, they didn't have time to dwell on it, it was done, they were going to war.

As he wrote about his pledge to Daenerys, he braced himself, knowing that something would have to be done to ensure that the Lords of the North would not rebel against him and his decision. For now, he needed Sansa to _know_.

Making her _understand_ was another thing. _That_ he would do when he would meet with her. But, one thing was certain...he was _serious_ about this. So serious that he signed his note as 'Warden of the North'.

" _Sansa,_

 _Cersei Lannister has pledged her forces to our cause, as has Daenerys Targaryen. And if we survive this war, I have pledged our forces to Daenerys as the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. We are both coming to organise the defence of the realm._

 _Jon Snow, Warden of the North"_

* * *

So they gathered back in Dragonstone, in The Chamber of the Painted Table to finalise the strategy. The only thing left was to plan their journey and go into battle. They had started all the preparations and it was time to finish them, to march North.

"We sail together."

Daenerys couldn't help the small smile that played at her lips, the ramifications of her agreement not lost on Jon, either. His gaze shifted to her, the same intensity that was always present between them burning hotly. Their surroundings faded, as they so often did when their eyes met. They were the only people that existed, their connection so strong that the _need_ that swept into their bodies could no longer be ignored for long.

The others in the council room were silent, not daring to say a word, even though it was fairly obvious to them all what had just transpired. No one could have missed the way that they looked at each other. But no one dared say anything. It was much bigger than them. Inevitable.

They had a long journey ahead, towards war, what if there would be no time after?

All that tension, every longing look, every moment they shared, they were rushing towards a prodigious culmination...

Why waste the time they had left? She would not stay back, alone, as he was on a boat for so many days. Not after all that they had been through. They were getting to know one another, they had a connection. She couldn't bear to be all alone, not when they were heading towards so much uncertainty.

* * *

She had left for her chambers after the meeting, Missandei, ever her trusted friend had come with her, eyes full of mirth and silent knowledge. Daenerys smiled back, anticipation clearly visible in her eyes, the exchange so enjoyable in comparison to the sad looks they seemed to have shared lately. They were good friends, not needing words to convey what they were thinking. And it was a familiar interaction, so welcomed by them both.

Daenerys thanked her as she had prepared her bath and braided her hair when she was done. Everyone was arranging the last things to depart the next day, so she smiled knowingly as she sent Missandei to spend the rest of the night with Grey Worm. They would have time to talk and confide in each other when there would be more to talk about.

At one point, the flames that she had lost herself gazing in, dimmed, the light in the room with them as she heard the distinct roar of thunder in the distance. Her two dragons echoed the sound, a response that had become customary since they came to Dragonstone. Her heart warmed at hearing them.

A storm. Just like the day she was born, just like the day she had arrived back and now, on the day that she would leave, maybe forever.

It was fitting, to have these days marked by the same roaring storm – ominous.

Daenerys rose from her spot near the fire, pulled her robe tighter around her frame and exited her chambers. She wanted to memorise this place, to, in a way, say goodbye to her birthplace, to commit it to memory.

Something was different now, however, the hallways deserted, the only sound, that of the thunder. A cold wind blew, its howl echoing around her. She did not hear the rain anymore, though the lightning struck again, followed by a booming thunder. Just as she reached the throne room, she saw why...

The room was silent, the wind blowing in _snowflakes_ , so many, so eerie, _white desolation_. It was snowing. This time, the thunderstorm had brought snow... She watched the ample throne room, watched how it all seemed so cold now, so unlike it felt when she had first stood on the throne when they arrived.

Winter was here.

Yet, the image seemed so familiar. The resemblance to an almost forgotten memory was uncanny. She had seen something like this before, had had this same distinctive feeling once, what seemed like a lifetime ago.

Her mind conjured up images of a long lost vision from when she had been in the House of the Undying.

So similar to this, she had seen the Iron Throne covered in snow, the roof of the Red Keep burned, the Grand Throne Room, in ruins. She had long since tried to make sense of those visions, had been too many to keep track of, but the lone, abandoned Iron Throne and the falling snowflakes had unsettled her even back then.

What did it mean? Winter was here, that they all knew, they could see it...but the sight indicated a much more devastating impression: the impending downfall of the world, the possibility that they could all have been battling for nothing. That, if Winter had come, if they would not stand together to face it, no Throne would matter, no one would be left to sit on them and it would all be in vain.

Such vision had shaken her, now knowing the extent of the army of the dead, she feared that this particular vision would come to be true. Having just settled their alliances and having just reiterated her resolution to not allow this to happen, Daenerys tried to get over the feeling.

In her mind, kept so safe and untarnished, she also had the vision of her Sun and Stars and their unborn child. That had been the most emotional memory that she kept, not a memory in itself, but one of the visions. Still, so precious to her, forever in her heart.

Of course, when she had experienced the visions, she had been aware she was in the presence of sorcery, had drank the 'Shade of the Evening', for the 'gift of truth'. She kept being plagued by quick flashes, whispers that seemed to come from everywhere. Chaos.

She still remembered. Yet remembered so little.

 _we know… the shape of shadows… morrows not yet made…_

 _drink from the cup of ice… drink from the cup of fire… Mother of Dragons… Child of Three…_

 _three heads has the dragon… three fires must you light: one for life and one for death and one to love… three mounts must you ride: one to bed and one to dread and one to love… three treasons will you know: once for blood and once for gold and once for love…_

 _daughter of death, slayer of lies, bride of fire…_

Daenerys's head filled with echoing whispers, her heart beating so fast and so loud that she almost heard it echo. Chills ran down her body as she tried to process what she remembered. ' _a fire TO love'_ she couldn't make sense of that, how could she light a fire _to_ love? She was certain that the other two were self explanatory, when she gave life to her dragons and death to the Undying or maybe the witch, or so many after.

How could she make sense of all of this? Did it really matter?

Three treasons...her mind replayed the meeting when they had first arrived in Dragonstone, the one where she had made Lord Varys swear that he would first come to her if he thought she was not making good decisions, the look back at the rest of her Council, silently telling them the same thing.

She had been betrayed by both her brother and Ser Jorah, for blood and gold and she was determined to do everything in her power to ensure that the rest of the prophecy would not become true. But there were so many ways to interpret these words, so many possibilities, so much to process _alone._

Maybe it was already true, maybe the treason for blood was when the witch murdered her son for her husband and ended up killing them both, then her brother's betrayal would be the one for gold and Jorah's the one for love. The man did love her and so, she had forgiven him, welcomed him back gladly. She had surrounded herself with people that she trusted, had tested them and herself and had reached the conclusion that she needed their advice, it only made her revise her decisions and make better ones.

 _Daughter of death..._ tears almost spilled from her eyes as she thought about how her mother had died while giving her birth, she knew for certain what that prophecy meant. And _bride of fire..._ she supposed that it was because she was unburnt, that no fire would kill her, because fire cannot kill a Dragon.

The emotional turmoil ended as a part kept repeating itself in her mind: ' _three heads has the Dragon' ..._ at that, Daenerys almost sobbed. No longer...

Her vision blurred, tears gathering in her eyes as she heaved, barely able to breathe. She could not remember more of the visual images, but the whispers bellowed in her head, sibilant and maddening. Her mind was spinning and she steadied herself, inhaling deeply the cold air and sitting on the throne in fear that she might collapse.

Why was she remembering all those words so clearly? They echoed in her mind, it was like she was surrounded by them. Maybe it was because she was so fatigued, her body not enduring the constant assault of agonizing memories.

She had not told anyone about what these visions had been, she had kept them to herself, had had so many other things to worry about that they had slipped her mind. But now, they were tormenting her, too many scenarios flashing through her mind. She would have to talk to someone about them, she needed to.

Her whole life had been about legends and prophecies and visions. She had had the power to see, had had the power to _know_ when these visions would _not_ become true. Had suffered immensely when her child, the promised – Stallion who Mounts the World – had died so horribly. After that, she had had the best advisors and protectors to guide her. They all believed. And she believed, too.

Yet, she thought about the Red Priestess...her words coming back to her as she tried to settle her ragged breath.

" _Prophecies are dangerous things. I believe you have a role to play as has another: the king in the North Jon Snow._ "

Indeed dangerous. She was losing herself in them, in that ominous feeling that she had no control over her life.

It frightened her. But she had to prevail, she had to overcome this dread, she was strong and she would not let herself dwell on these things when there were so many other, _real_ threats awaiting them. She had to calm down, had to leave dealing with those visions to a later time, because now, they were about to face a very real enemy and they all needed her fierce and focused.

"So you come and sit on the Throne when you can't sleep?"

 **So that was it. Emotional chapter and still more emotional drama to come.**

 **I started writing and the chapter turned massive, so that is why I split it in two and left you with this minor cliffhanger ending.**

 **I had to do some research for the vision part, which is from both the show and the books, but they were so much more emotional in the book that I had to add them. So hopefully, this turned out good.**

 **Review and let me know what you think! Thank you !**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Revelations**

"So you come and sit on the Throne when you can't sleep?"

Danenerys chuckled. She was not even surprised that she hadn't heard him come in and was pleased to have a good reason to not think about those dreaded visions.

Jon came in, each step echoing as he got closer and closer. He was much lightly dressed than usual, his armour not needed, yet he still had his leather shirt and trousers, so fitted to his body that Daenerys could not notice how good they hugged his well sculpted body. He looked really handsome.

The small torch that he carried, he hung on the wall, giving them enough light to have an intimate field of vision. The way that his lips curved into a smile told her that he hadn't really hoped for an answer at his attempted joke. When he was only two steps lower than the Throne, he stopped. This way, they were almost at eye level. She smiled back, her eyes softening. She was glad that he had come because it meant she could quiet her thoughts, yet something was still bothering her.

"Do you believe in prophecies, Jon Snow?"

It was the first time that she addressed him by his full name, not missing the flash of surprise and mirth in his eyes.

"I suppose I don't. Never trusted such things."

Jon replied easily, honestly. He was intrigued by her question. He remembered their conversation in the Dragon Pit, yet, by the look on her face, she seemed to be referring to something else this time.

" _The long night is coming, only the prince that was promised can bring the dawn."_

Daenerys recited it solemnly. She knew it by heart, by now.

"I believe you know a Red Priestess, Melisandre."

Jon's brows furrowed, uncertain of how to react to what Daenerys was telling him. He remembered the Priestess, she had been the one to resurrect him, after all, but, after he had learned just _how_ she had done it, he had despised her.

"Aye, I know her."

He couldn't keep the disgust from seeping his words. She noticed this, of course.

"What happened?"

Her voice was soft, etched with concern and he looked at her, contemplative. He hadn't allowed Ser Davos to tell them about his Resurrection when they first met, but now, he trusted Daenerys, he wanted to open up to her, to tell her exactly what he had been through. He remembered the look of resolution and pain she had when she had talked to him about not having children and now, he owed it to her as well as himself to share his story. His whole story.

So, he took a deep breath and sighed.

"When I was a Brother of the Night's Watch, I spent some time Beyond the Wall, with the Free-folk. At first I was a prisoner and then, as I spent more time with them, I saw how similar we were, how we did not need to be enemies, but, that the true enemy were the White Walkers. That is where I fell in love. With a wildling."

He watched as Daenerys's eyes widened, she was so focused that he smiled, pausing. Her eyes looked on, questioningly. She dared not ask.

"She was the only woman I ever had. I loved her. And she died in my arms, killed by one of my Brothers from the Watch."

Jon had to get that off of his chest. It no longer hurt to think about Ygritte, yet it was a sad memory and he appreciated the fact that Daenerys seemed to understand. She didn't need to express her sympathy, her eyes spoke for her, also conveying that she was familiar with that pain, too.

"I burned her body. I would never have wanted her to come back as one of _them_."

He spat the last word and Daenerys could very much relate to him in that aspect. Jon paused, again looking at her and what he saw, unsettled him. The haunted look on her face, the distant stare of her eyes, her features unmoving, it was like darkness loomed over her.

"I burned my husband, too. Along with the witch that murdered my son. She had done blood magic to cure my husband by sacrificing my child, yet she failed. I had to watch him in a state of limbo, he was breathing, yet he did not live. I had to put an end to him and stepped into the fire of his funeral along with the three Dragon eggs in my arms. That was how my children were born, and _I_ reborn- _Unburnt."_

Once she started talking, she could not stop and Jon did not even think about stopping her, he watched her, hung to every word. His eyes darkened in realisation of what she was saying. She stared on sadly, mixed emotions playing in her heart. He was shaken by her words.

She had _lost a child_ because of that witch, had suffered so much that he understood now why she felt so helplessly bound by that curse.

He couldn't begin to imagine what pain she must have felt, losing both a husband and a child. He felt tears prick his eyes for the first time in what seemed like forever. Jon had cried maybe once- when he had burned Ygritte, but, now, hearing Daenerys's pain and seeing such grief fill her eyes at the memory of losing her child, he couldn't control himself. He wanted to hold her, to take away her pain and soothe her, but he was stunned into stillness.

Sadness still burned into her eyes, he saw that, yet, through it all, she had prevailed. Her dragons were born through fire, held by her, that is why she loved them as her children. He understood now. And he admired her now, more than ever.

After the revealing news, Jon felt the need to sit down. He rested on the step just below her throne, hands on his knees as he turned his head to watch her. He had never allowed anyone to see him so open, so raw and vulnerable, to have his eyes brimming with tears, tears for her, for having finally understood what her devastation had been all along.

"Dany...I'm sorry, I didn't know."

He had not wanted to bring up such poignant, sad memories to her, had not wanted to make her suffer by remembering. She shook her head and smiled, now finding comfort in hearing him call her that familiar name, his voice so devoted.

"No, don't be. I wanted you to know."

His body was now so close that she could place her hand on his shoulder. She saw that he was affected, appreciated his empathy more than anything. And she wanted to show him that. She didn't even realize her daring move until his eyes shifted to her hand.

The mood suddenly turned from solemn and sad to intimate and warm. They were confiding in each other. They were connecting on a deeper level.

"I know you saw the scars on my chest."

Jon started, his eyes meeting hers as he turned his body to face her even if he was so much lower than her now. Daenerys nodded silently and shifted in her seat.

She didn't feel right sitting on the throne with him standing at her feet, so far away from her. It was an underlying need to be closer to him, to be on even ground with him, the double meaning not lost on her. She smiled, stood up and, with a steadying breath and keeping her eyes on him, she came to sit right next to him, on the same step. She needed to be there for him, with him, eye to eye, heart to heart.

He watched in confusion as she moved to sit on the same level as him. It was something so deliberate, so touching that he didn't know if he even wanted to get into thinking about it. They were having a moment, unvoiced thoughts of equality and intimacy coming to life. Her hand came to hold his, over his knee, this time firm, unhesitating, comforting, wanting to know the rest of his story.

"I was stabbed to death by my Brothers of the Night's Watch for betraying them, for saving the Free-folk. The Red Woman brought me back. She resurrected me by sacrificing a young girl to her Lord of Light. That is why I do not wish to speak of her. She murdered a _child._ "

Dany was focused on his low voice, his eyes portraying the pain which he had felt, the struggle to be at peace with what had happened. She saw how much he had suffered by the betrayal of his own people. She saw the pain for that child and yet again was surprised by how selfless he was. He did not think of himself, he thought of the poor child that was lost.

She understood completely. Her hand gripped his tighter, wanting to convey that she knew, yet that she was more than grateful that, after all, he had been brought back, and was now here, with her. She could not even pretend to be as selfless as him.

"But you are here now." She managed to get out, her throat suddenly dry and eyes red.

" _Only death can pay for life"_

The words just spilled out of her mouth. Yet another prophecy that seemed to haunt her. But, with Jon at the receiving end of that prophecy, she was grateful that it existed. Jon watched her, listened to the words she uttered, felt her fingers move soothingly over his hand. Maybe some prophecies were real.

Jon looked so deeply into her eyes, emotion swirling in both their gazes, it seemed like they were looking into each other's souls. He may not serve The Lord of Light, or believe in his prophecies, or care for the methods of his Priestess, but, Jon was relieved to finally find it in himself to get closure now that he had found a reason to.

Daenerys was exhausted of having to keep her distance from him. They had both been trying so hard to not take things too far, to not get involved in something that they believed to be a distraction. But why were they doing it anyway?

She had gone through every emotional state that night. From fear to overwhelming dread, then sadness to comfort and now receiving warmth, devotion, all messing with her head.

Their stories were so similar, so full of sorrow, so full of complications, they had had to fight, _constantly_ for every little thing, had done so much for so many people before doing anything for themselves.

Through all the tragic moments that they had both been through, the one thing that she understood and appreciated, above all, was that they were here now _, together_. They had faced so much, _lost_ so much, yet, all that they had undergone had led them here. It had made them the people that they were now, the strong leaders –King and Queen- it had brought them together.

"She was the one that told us to summon you, Jon Snow. She has brought Fire and Ice together."

Daenerys continued, her eyes still gazing so tenderly back at him. Jon could only hold onto her hand tighter and hope that his eyes spoke for him because his tongue couldn't form words right then. He understood what she was saying, that it the end, something good happened, that he should value having gotten a second chance at _living_ , at doing something memorable. Although, now he was not sure what he was referring at - the Great War or meeting Daenerys Targaryen.

Just looking into her beautiful eyes, he lost himself, lost all of his reasons to despise the Red Woman. In that moment, watching the intense devotion shining in the eyes of this remarkable woman, _for him_ , he was only grateful that the Priestess had resurrected him. He was thankful that he had gotten to meet this most formidable, beautiful, powerful Queen.

 _Ice and Fire Together_

He breathed in deeply, his heart hammering in his chest. He was feeling things that he had not felt before, but the anticipation of this had been eating at him, for some time now.

The dull darkness of the room was interrupted by the flashes of lightning from the storm that was still raging outside, the cold light reflecting on her face, every few minutes making her beautiful features even more striking.

Jon didn't know what to do with himself. Her hands were still intertwined with his, making his body react in very primitive ways. He craved to touch more of her, to sate his thirst for her, to calm his incessant urge to kiss her. But he wanted so much more, to _worship_ her, a deep yearning settling in his heart. He tried to find something to say, yet, somehow no words seemed to be suited at this point.

Daenerys witnessed his turmoil, the way that his eyes had fixed on their hands, the slight tightening of his fingers around hers before he looked up. He had never been more unguarded, yet still so boldly masculine, his features painted with the same fervent arousal that she currently felt seeping into her.

The atmosphere stirred with anticipation, the air around them crackling with so much tension.

Yet, Jon surprised her, in a most astonishing display of tenderness. He _kneeled_ in front of her, so formally, so reverential to her, eyes not wavering from hers as his hand brought hers to his lips and he kissed her palm. Intense and fiery, his gaze reflected what his lips were making her feel. His unsteady breath gusted over her skin, sending shivers up her spine.

Jon's lips were hotter than her hand, even if fire was what she embodied. It seemed that in that moment, she was _ice_ and he was _fire._ It did not even matter. There was so much need, yearning...so much _longing_ surging over them.

As she turned to face him, the fold of her robe shifted, exposing a good portion of her bare leg with the new position of her body. It was an action so uncounted for, but so tantalizing.

Jon only then lowered his eyes from her fervid gaze, down over her heaving breasts and lower to where her night robe revealed her beautiful skin. It was as much of her body as he had ever seen, his attention riveted there, mesmerized by the sight.

Daenerys saw his reaction, revelled in it as she directed his hand lower, placing it on her knee, the action so ardent that he thought he would burn when his skin finally touched hers.

Passionate and so searing, his fingers brushed over her knee, almost reluctant. If her hand had been colder than his lips, now, she held her breath at feeling his cold fingers on her heated skin. He was enthralled by the softness of her skin when he finally dared to feel her, his fingers touching where she guided him.

How she wanted to take his hand further and further up her thigh, her need for him so blatant now, that from just that simple touch, he sent shivers of pleasure all through her body and wetness pooling between her legs. From just one ghosted touch, Jon Snow lit in her a fire so intense, so acute that it consumed her.

She watched, fervently as his hand glided under her robe slowly, the action sordid and arousing, so long coveted by both of them.

He did not know where he had gotten the balls to slip his hand under her robe, but, seeing the most expressive reaction so hotly displayed on her face, he knew he was not going to stop.

Her leg shifted, so slightly, but the soft fabric of her robe slid even more off her leg. Jon gulped, his eyes fixed on the newly exposed skin. When her hand covered his, he looked up at her, almost as if burned, not knowing what he had done wrong. He didn't expect, however, the lust in her eyes as her teeth closed over her lower lip. Then, she was guiding his hand, moving it further up and he thought he might just lose his mind.

Daenerys's eyes were smouldering. Watching his actions with a heavy-lidded gaze, she seemed to want to eat him alive.

He was still kneeling next to her so, when she leaned forward, he didn't dare not do the same. It was like something was pulling them together.

They were so close, he could feel her breath on his face, and when she licked her lips, he could not keep any shred of control, his fingers gripping her leg, wanting nothing more than to pull her legs further apart and nestle himself between them, _forever_ if possible.

Daenerys was incredibly aroused, desire burning through her veins, fire scalding every inch of her body.

Jon's touch was maddening, both strong and so unsure, as if he thought she would break and she felt _something_ about that and relinquished, all that tension having reached its peak, an apogee akin to Dragon fire.

Lightning struck just as their lips finally connected, in a rush of passion and need.

Her hands reached out to him, holding his face closer as their lips touched, she tried holding herself from plummeting into madness. Jon's breath stilled, his fingers digging into her thigh as his other arm slid around her back, pulling her into him as her legs wrapped around him. There seemed to be so much space between them and they were both pulling and tugging at the other, to try and get closer.

Fire spread through them, starting from their connected lips, yet it was not enough. The kiss deepened, her tongue brushing over the seam of his lips and he welcomed the intrusion with fervid abandon. Tilting his head, Jon relished in the soft moan that rolled off her tongue and onto his as he kissed back with the same passion. They were lost, completely out of control as their tongues stroked, breaths quickened and insides tightened.

A groan echoed in the room, Jon barely recognizing it as coming from him. He was assaulted by everything that was _her,_ his lips not seeming to get enough of her, the taste of her soft lips- delectable, _extraordinary_. He was eating away at her mouth in such a lush kiss that made her even more achy and wet.

Daenerys's lips captured his with ardent fervour, her tongue entering his mouth and exploring it thoroughly, tasting him and enjoying every small sound he was making. Her teeth closed over his bottom lip, nipping and tongue soothing as he tried to catch his breath. His body was coiled, pressing tightly onto hers, leaning her back over the stone surface. Liquid desire was pooling heatedly down to her core, her slit throbbing in need.

They were both breathing erratically, mouths seeking each other, desperation mixed with desire.

Jon thought he might just die again as he felt the heat radiating from Daenerys's body so tightly pressed to him. A soft whimper left her lips as her naked skin connected with the hard evidence of his arousal, even through his leather trousers. She was going insane from the constant jolts of pleasure as she felt Jon's lips leave hers and explore the curve of her neck. His beard scraped softly over the smooth skin of her throat and she cocked her head to the side to give him full access, the sensation ticklish, contradicting with the raging pleasure.

He pulled back, heaving as he looked at her face, the pleasure written over her features, her lips parted and swollen by _his_ touch. Jon's mind was reeling, his body so strung up that he felt it would combust under her heated gaze. They fit together perfectly, both passionate and hungry for more.

She looked up at him, her eyes hooded with sheer desire for him, entranced by the darkened need she saw in Jon's. Her heart was beating chaotically, her fingers almost trembling as they smoothed over his face, taking in the beautiful curve of his lips, the redness caused by her bites and the _need_ that clouded his eyes.

They were pure instinctual beings in that moment, only made up of lust and want.

As he looked down, his pupils dilated so much that it made his eyes seem black and she knew that she was staring in the face of a man that had lost every shred of control. Both his hands were now on her thighs, her robe revealing her legs all the way up to her wet slit. He gripped her legs tight and, in a display of strength, he lifted her up and sat her on the Throne, pulling her legs apart as he kneeled between them.

The action made Daenerys almost come right there. Looking at the hunger for her that was clear in Jon's every move, she felt so exposed, yet so idolized, so desired that she had to remind herself to breathe. He took her breath away, the image of him settled between her legs so intensely erotic.

Feeling his fingers slide over her inner thigh and seeing his eyes focused on her cunt, craving her in such a way that she was already soaked with excitement. She had experienced this before, with Daario and had indeed gotten pleasure from it, but, it was different now, Jon was so much more intense that she already felt more pleasure than ever before. He looked at her like he was going to devour her and she was undeniably lost, granting him unfettered access to her body, probably her heart, too.

She watched, entranced as Jon spread her nether lips apart with his fingers, his mouth descending on her, his tongue exploring her, circling her entrance. Her body was on edge and she arched her body into him, needing his touch more than anything in that moment. Her eyes were completely riveted on his, lost in the intensity of the moment.

Daenerys was open and parted for him in every way, completely exposed to him, to his talented mouth. She lifted into his devious mouth, giving herself to him fully. The affinity between them was carnal, raw, nearly unbearable, and they both knew there was no going back now. They didn't want to go back.

He was satisfying her in such a way that Dany thought that she was going insane with the constant assault over her senses. It felt so good that her body was bowing to his. Jon's lips circled her clitoris and his cheeks hallowed. Sucking rhythmically, he massaged the hypersensitive knot with the tip of his tongue, making her moan loudly as her back arched into him, her hips churning to get him closer.

She was pumping her hips mindlessly into his mouth, lost to the primal connection between them. Her fingers were tugging at his hair, keeping him in place or bringing him closer, she did not really know. Her other hand was besides her, trying to keep herself upright.

He smiled at her impatience and continued to torture her with slow, sensuous licks up and down her labia. Jon was enjoying every second of it, had wanted to taste her, make her his and wanted to make the wait worth it, for both of them. He wanted to make her fall apart under his skilful tongue so he would lick, tap, suck and circle her bundle of nerves over and over, winding her up, driving her mad.

It was completely unnerving, but her body was being invaded, _possessed_ by the epitome of oral pleasure. The combination was devastating and addicting like nothing else.

Her body shook with every swipe of his tongue, her eyelids heavy from the illicit pleasure, but still watching him, the moment much more intense with eye contact. His tongue rubbed over and over the clenching entrance to her body, teasing her, making her grind shamelessly into his working mouth. His hands cupped her bare ass, kneading, urging her onto his tongue as his tongue slid inside her, making Daenerys's eyes roll in the back of her head.

"Jon!" His eyes were attuned to her every move, incredibly aroused by the fire in her eyes, the constant visual contact – intense, escalating the pleasure for both of them. Yet, watching her head tip back, hair falling over her back and hearing his name fall from her lips in such utter pleasure, Jon was certain he had never seen anything more strikingly beautiful.

It was clear that he was enjoying the way that she heaved and moaned because of him. Jon was making her fall apart and he was relishing in the control that he had over her body. The control she _gave_ him. There was reverence in the greedy way he enjoyed her, the unmistakable sense that he worshipped her body, that pleasuring it and taking pleasure from it was as vital to him as the blood in his veins.

Daenerys could not even think. Her mind was only focused on him, on his eyes, on his _tongue._ She lost her mind in between Jon's eyes looking at her deeply and his tongue entering her quivering cleft.

Her entire body succumbed to his touch, mad from the feeling, her toes curling, legs tightening around Jon's shoulders, breath stilling as he coaxed her body to the brink of something that she was certain would shatter her in the best of ways. He possessed her without shame or reservation, tireless, soft and shallow plunges against her nerve-laden tissues.

Outside, a loud, deep roar echoed and Daenerys felt through her connection with Drogon that something was happening. Not even a moment later they both heard a loud scuffle coming from just outside the door followed by a loud curse.

"For fuck's sake, look where you're going!"

Jon panicked, clearly recognizing Ser Davos's voice and accent and he was right at the door. He pulled back, eyes wide as he stood up swiftly and brought Daenerys to her feet, too. Both of them flustered, agitated and aroused into exasperation, not knowing how to react. His lips were glistening with the evidence of her arousal and she thought she might burn up at the sight.

"Go!" Jon whispered at her as he smoothed a strand of hair behind her. She looked so exquisitely flustered, so rattled that he thought he might explode just then. The situation would have been almost amusing if it wouldn't be dangerous for them to get caught in such a compromising position. And it was seriously _not_ amusing that they were both so achingly turned on.

They were clearly reckless, but, Gods how good it was!

Daenerys could almost yell in pure frustration. And judging by what Jon's body had felt against her, she knew that he was just as frustrated, probably more, having not gotten any sort of relief. She almost laughed out loud at the interruption of their secret meeting as she rushed down the hallways, back to her chambers, the situation so maddening, her legs shaking and her mind spinning from the experience.

Her core was still throbbing, still so wet that she felt the cold air from the halls sweep over her, yet make her even more aroused. She could not stop thinking about _him._ She had never had such a reaction to any man, nor any _thing_ that any man (or woman for that matter) had ever done to her.

Her body was screaming in protest as she entered her room, suddenly not being able to withstand the fabric of her robe against her flesh. She took it off in a flurry, her pin falling to the ground with the robe, her hands cupping her breasts, trying to have some relief.

Her skin burned, her breasts ached, her clitoris throbbed - all because of him, all _for him._

So little time had they touched, yet it had been so intense that her body was starved for him. And, settling into bed, her hands travelled on her breasts and down to her core, kneading, fingers coating in wetness and returning to her aching breasts, flicking her nipples and tweaking. She imagined his mouth on her breasts, tongue over her nipple and then teeth nipping at them.

She closed her eyes, her mind coming up with only his image, his eyes, his hands, as her left hand skimmed over her sex and she rubbed in a slow circle. Her mouth opened as she panted, a moan escaping her lips at the feeling that was radiating thorough her body.

Her breath hitched at remembering his tongue on her slit, lapping and sucking, tipping her head back as her fingers slid over her pulsing nub. She inhaled sharply as her fingertips massaged her clitoris in rapid circles now, her hips grinding into her touch, imagining Jon between her legs, doing it himself with his mouth.

She then eased two fingers inside her, the heel of her hand pressing against her clitoris. Skin was coated in a fine sheen of sweat, her vision blurring as her core tightened viciously in preparation for orgasm. She was wound so tight that her fingers slid easily into her, her sex pulling them in and her hips thrusting up to meet their moves.

She was so desperate for release, so wound up for so long that she started to move her fingers, her hands, up and down, rapidly, assaulting both that sweet spot inside her and her clitoris at the same time. Her head thrashed, eyes still closed, still picturing Jon.

Pleasure built and spiked throughout the lower half of her body. She shattered around her fingers, a low, long moan tumbling from her lips, the continuous assault over her senses becoming overwhelming as she came with the image of Jon's eyes staring at her from between her legs.

 _Gods, what have you done to me, Jon Snow?_

He had erased all other thoughts form her mind, had erased all thoughts of war and dread and ruling, she had only wanted to _let_ him _rule_ over her and have him be _ruled_ by her.

* * *

Sleep hadn't come to her in so many nights, she had been too worried, too focused, yet, now, it seemed that her body was exhausted and it had yielded. But, her sleep was not peaceful, nor restful, despite the warmth of pleasure that spread through her body.

Nightmares plagued her, everything going on at once, her head spinning, yet, not being able to wake up. Shudders wrecked her body, it was real, it was _so_ real.

She had not had such tormenting nights, filled with flashes, scenes that she knew not what to make of, she dreamed of the fire that she stepped out of, dreamed of the birth of her dragons, yet, as flames surrounded her, hot and familiar and soothing, their colour turned a bright blue, more intense, _cold._ And she _felt_ it. Chilling and dreadful.

Her eyes closed in her dream and when she opened them, she saw a dragon with eyes dead, so blue and icy that her heart stopped in fear, his wings having started to desiccate, his body horribly mauled. The dragon surged through the air, breathing blue fire towards her, fire that did not reach her because it was met by the yellow flames she was so familiar with.

Then there were only flashes of blue flames and the Night King riding the ice dragon...ice falling around them, her dragons roaring, their flames enveloping her, then flashes of Jon, the blue flames heading for him. Her heart soared, running towards him at the same time that Rhaegal breathed fire over him, intercepting the blue flames.

Sick dread took over her that turned into utter shock, as she saw that Jon was not affected, his clothes burning, yet he stood tall, holding a flaming sword as he charged for the Night King.

She woke up breathless, her heart hammering in her chest, body shaking. She had had so many horrible dreams before, yet only now she was truly frightened. A dragon with blue eyes, Jon being caught in the middle of the fire, yet not burning. What did this mean? It _had_ to be just a dream...

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **Bit of a later update than usual, but hopefully worth the wait for something we all wanted.**

 **I hope you like how the confessions went, please tell me about that, and I would love to hear your thoughts on the smut here, been surprised myself by how much it turned out to be here, but that's where they seemed to veer... so, now, that lack of conversation on the boat can make sense, (at least for me) with them having confessed so much here.**

 **Also, had to throw in that little bit at the end, it seemed good to tie it all in.**

 **Hopefully you enjoyed it! Love to hear from you all.**

 **Tell me if you'd like anything else to happen before the boat sex, maybe some talking on the boat before the 'big night'? I will be out of the country for a week, so, the next update will be after I come back. Sorry for that, but this might just tide you over.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: He loved her and she loved him.**

They weren't supposed to find each other, but they did.

It was more than destiny.

Both their lives plagued with horrors and struggles, both of them had fought so hard to achieve what they had achieved. They have earned their titles through battle, blood, constant conflict and strain. They were so alike yet so different.

It seemed that now, they had only war to look forward to, only blood, only sadness, yet if they were to fight, to be strong, they needed to know.

They had felt it every time that they looked at each other, strongly, fierce and unrelenting. They couldn't stop it, so the only thing left to do was to give in to it. No matter the consequences they needed to know. To _feel_.

It was wrong. It was not the time. They were at war with the dead, no less. But it seemed more and more like they were running out of time.

What if there was no time after the war? What if they were all going to die, what if they would never be able to be together? Why not experience the fire that was burning inside? Why not _feel_?

Right now, when they were headed towards the Great War, towards so much death...in uncertainty that they would survive the battle to come, they needed each other; it was all so clear now. They loved each other, the way they gazed longingly into each other's eyes, they hadn't had to say the words, no one heard them confess anything, but they all saw.

They all knew.

The King in the North and the Dragon Queen loved each other. And what was there to fight for if not love?

In the imminent war, what would fuel the fire within them? What would keep them sane?

How could they have been so stupid? They loved each other since he had _not_ bent the knee, but instead had challenged her and had proven to be deserving of being her equal. Her King.

It may seem wrong or it may not have been the time...they avoided it as a means of not being distracted from the main objective, but what if this was exactly what they needed?

What if this would give them strength? What if their love was what prevailed?

* * *

He had faced White Walkers, armies of enemies, he had been betrayed and stabbed to death by his own men, yet he had never felt like this. Standing in front of a door, on a boat. Certainly, it was not any boat, not any door. It was hers. And that explained why he had such intense feelings.

Nervous and agitated.

Jon Snow stood in front of the door, his breath ragged, his heart beating erratically. Their latest encounter had left him painfully aware of how much he needed her, had been physically clear that he wanted her, more than anything. And he had had her for just a moment, had tasted her and had craved more, had tried everything to keep himself away from her while they boarded on the same boat. The taste of her had still lingered on his tongue, the look of pleasure on her face and the soft moans that spilled from her parted lips still flashed before his eyes.

Three knocks resounded as he finally found the courage to beat on the door. As it slowly opened, his heart almost stopped in anticipation. Daenerys was a vision in the firelight, her eyes locked on his, he saw the same anticipation reflected back as her hand lowered from the door, a silent invitation clear in her actions.

He hadn't thought that seeing her would render him speechless this time, but then again, there were no words that needed to be spoken between them. They were no longer able to deny it...they felt so strongly for each other.

Daenerys watched as Jon's dark eyes bored into hers, the intensity ever present. The constant longing and hooded looks that he greeted her with every day had made her mad with want. She remembered so clearly that same look coming from between her legs as his mouth had brought her so much pleasure, yet even so much more captivating were his eyes.

It was so much for them to try to ignore. In this moment they both knew that they had yielded to their feelings, to the fire that was burning between them. So much intimacy had come to be shared with just one simple look.

Nothing they could say would properly describe how they felt, they just knew, they just felt. She could only open her door wide, never breaking her eyes from his as he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him and thus surrendering himself to his feelings.

She had busied herself with preparations and talks with Tyrion all day, yet her mind had only been on him, her body had craved his touch, had started shaking in anticipation as she ended up in her chamber. She only saw Jon from afar on the boat, yet she had wanted him to come to her, to finish what they had started in the Throne room.

The sheer magnitude of his gaze enveloped her, consumed her, there was such passion in his dark eyes, such lust, but something more, much, _much more_.

Never had she witnessed such scorching ardour in a man's gaze before. Nothing compared to this and she had no intention of tainting this moment with either words or much less memories of other men. It was just them, their lives in the moment of surrender.

Jon watched as her lips parted ever so slightly, his eyes keen, wandering. He wanted nothing more than to take her, to make her his, but he didn't want to rush, he wanted to savour her, to taste every inch of delicate skin on her glorious body, he wanted to feel her, to watch her, to never break eye contact with her.

It had been so hard not to give into what their bodies screamed at them from the very beginning. It was lust at first, raging desire, but over time it had developed into something more profound. Dare they say love?

His hand reached for her hair, mesmerized at the silver colour, and daring not to touch her anywhere else until she made a move. He treasured her, she was a Queen after all and he had finally admitted it in front of everyone.

Her fingers slowly enveloped his hand, bringing it to her lips. She saw the sliver of surprise in his eyes as she placed a kiss in his palm, along with the ever present fire and she smiled, her action only mirroring his from the night prior. Jon smiled back, his arm finally wrapping around her waist and pulling her body flush to his as their lips finally met.

It was the most ardent moment of their lives, both holding onto each other, her fingers grasping what she could, one hand clasped around his strong arm and the other lost in his hair, lightly pulling him closer.

Everything came crashing down, their resolve burning up in flames.

Jon felt the raging desire course through him, the need for her returning with full force and mixed with desperation. He stepped closer, his body having a mind of its own as he pushed Daenerys against the door, earning a soft gasp as her back hit the wood, her lips parting from his in need for air.

The intimate position in which their bodies touched did nothing to hide his erection and her body hummed in aching urgency. She was just as impatient as him, wanting more, a struggle in her mind raging between wanting to rip the clothes off their bodies and taking their time. Somehow, this was different, she wanted to relish in every moment with Jon. Daenerys sought a deeper contact and he would give her just that.

And she was lost in him the second his lips pressed against hers, his tongue dipping into her mouth, lightly touching and teasing hers with velvet soft licks. Unhurried, it was his time to explore her and to enjoy her.

Much too soon the need to breathe was too strong to deny and Daenerys felt him pull away. She stopped him, though, her teeth closing over his lower lip, silently begging him to crash his lips back into hers, but she felt his hands gently caress her cheek and she opened her eyes. The look of pure adoration in his dark orbs made her heart swell with love as he rested his forehead against hers, closing his eyes, both of them breathing heavily.

Why had they waited for this for so long?

Her hands trailed down his torso, nails raking over his muscles and pulling at his shirt slightly. He watched her intently, his body already responding to her alluring suggestion. They had experienced each other, yet had not gotten out of their clothes the night before, which was not acceptable now. She wanted to see him so she looked into his eyes, her fingers already working on the laces of his tunic.

Their clothes fell on the ground in a rapid succession: laces untied, hands pushing, pulling; their fingers slowly started exploring, not wanting anything else to come between their bodies. His tunic fell first, followed by her robe and, as their eyes explored the newly exposed skin, her fingers unlaced his pants and he stepped out of them.

They stood there bare in front of each other, open. Their eyes were still connected in the intense gaze and the urgency was replaced with silent exploration.

He looked at her like she was fragile, like she was glass, his fingers caressing her face, ghosting over her hair, yet his arms didn't dare touch her yet, he wanted to look at her, to memorize every curve of her body.

Daenerys had never felt so exposed, but so admired, so beautiful. The way that Jon's eyes moved so slowly down her body, reverently, taking her in, it was filling her with warmth and desire. She watched as his chest rose and fell with every ragged breath, her eyes descending down the well sculpted muscles of his chest, lingering a little on his scars, but exploring more, lower.

Her eyes roamed his body, took in the sight of his well defined body, shamelessly lingering on his groin and enjoying the blatant proof of his arousal, of how much he wanted her. His member was fully erected, inviting and she wondered what he tasted like. She had never even _wanted_ to do that with anyone else, but after what Jon had done to her with his mouth, she wanted to give him some pleasure back, to experience something new with him.

She stepped closer, looking at him, circling him so slowly, so deliberately; just one hand reaching out to touch him, fingers sliding over his exceptionally shaped ass. Daenerys could admit that she was really impressed by the tight expanse of muscle sculpted to perfection on his body. His cock twitched at her slight touch, yet he stood still.

Surprised at his reaction, at how he restrained himself, she knew he was immensely aroused by how he looked at her. Daenerys had never felt like this when a man watched her. His mind stopped, her body was so beautiful that he dared not touch her, he wanted to worship her, was astounded by the soft, delicate sight of her skin. His fingers trembled, wanting to reach out to her, to touch and she was so attuned to him that she extended her hand in invitation, knowing what he wanted.

She stepped closer, smiling as she took his hand and directed it over her chest, over her heart, holding it there. Jon looked up at her, eyes full of love, of adoration and she marvelled at his touch. Fingers rough, the fingers of a true warrior, yet which moved so slowly, so tentatively, eyes following his hands as he cupped her breasts, the soft mounds fitting perfectly in his palms.

Her body was unlike everything he had even thought about, so different, so much more delicate and so beautiful. He had by no means a vast knowledge of how women's bodies were supposed to look like, but he knew for sure that Daenerys's body was _regal._ The soft expanse of her skin was remarkable; every curve of her body was carved to absolute magnificence.

Jon allowed himself the pleasure of touching her, her heaving breasts, her hardened nipples, fingers ghosting over them and up over her shoulders, a soft gasp escaping her lips. He was so tentative, his hands travelling over her arms, down her sides, settling on her hips and slowly caressing over them to her ass, fingers spreading over her soft cheeks as he looked back into her eyes. His hands closed over her, pulling her closer, her skin finally touching his down the length of their bodies.

Daenerys tried to hold herself up, a little light headed under his heated gaze, her hands resting on his chest when he pulled her closer, fire enveloping her when their bodies finally connected without anything standing between their skin. She had thought that she would melt under his fingertips, Jon's touch so soft and so maddening.

Everything was heightened in that moment, her skin so desperate for his touch, so attuned to his every caress. Every part of her body so intensely aware of every hard part of his body, muscles rippling and twitching against her, she could even feel his heartbeat against her aching breast.

She wouldn't have thought that in such a short time, she would be having such strong feelings for Jon, but she had never felt like this before. He had made her feel safe and appreciated every moment that she had spent with him. Daenerys's life had been turned upside down by this one man and she had finally embraced the change. She was in love and she was in over her head, but ready to take the leap with Jon.

They do say that love takes you by surprise...

Well to her, love swept over her, picking her up like a tidal wave and invading every sense, every pore, every part of her with such swiftness and such force that it knocked the air right out of her lungs. But it was real, it was nothing she had expected, but it was perfect.

Between them now there was an all different kind of urgency, of impatience and her body was just too high strung on the happiness and excitement to even function properly, sensations swirling wildly inside her.

He cupped the side of her face and kissed her, his mouth soft but still hungry over hers. Startled from her thoughts, it took her a moment to smile into the kiss, her hands drifting smoothly over his sides and her hands explored his back, fingers digging into the tight muscles. When his tongue stroked deep into her mouth, fire burst through her bloodstream, a low moan escaping her lips.

He pulled back and Daenerys looked up at him, seeing the same gorgeous and powerful man that she'd first met, the mysteries of his darkness entirely solved by now, but the look in his eyes . . .made her throat burn.

Jon's eyes reflected such fire, power of a _love_ with scorching intensity, the hunger for her, for that intimacy and the need to see her happy, in love and to commit this moment to memory. His fingertips brushed over her temples, slowly, barely touching across her cheeks and down to her throat as his eyes burned into hers. He tilted her jaw up, smiling, and his lips pressed gently against hers. It was a small, soft gesture that meant so much more, that expressed so much love that he didn't even have to use words to make her see. She knew.

Jon exuded such strong devotion that she saw clearly now; that feeling that she saw burning so intense in his eyes, the emotion that she had not been able to name, the feeling that she was now certain of, it was love.

Eyes fervent with desire, he was watching her with a heavy-lidded gaze both lustful and loving. His tongue slid leisurely along the seam of his lips, lingering a bit longer because he could still taste her, savouring the reaction he knew he would get from Daenerys. She knew that look by now; knew what it meant, how bad he wanted her and she shivered in delight, feeling it all the way between her legs.

It was that look that had riveted her when his tongue had trailed between her folds. One that could make her so blatantly aroused, so excited because it screamed sex, passionate _**sex**_. The look that brought back memories of how earth shattering pleasurable his mouth was.

He sealed his chiselled mouth over hers, tongue sliding along hers, stroking and tasting as her fingers gripped his hair, holding him close. They were moving, legs tangling as Jon pushed her back against a wall. There was that ever present rush of desire that coursed through her body when they were so close.

Daenerys did not even mind being slammed back against the wall because she could clearly feel that he was already thick and hard between them and he grew more so as she nipped the skin between his shoulder and neck with her teeth and reached down to grip his perfect ass, tugging him tighter against her. She loved the expression of slight shock and mirth that she saw in Jon's eyes at her bold touch.

His lips and tongue started leaving a trail of liquid fire down the side of her neck, soft, tentative nips and licks making her moan. It felt so good that her back arched into him, head thrown against the wall with a hard thud that she hoped would not resonate through the whole ship. Jon smiled against her skin, his hot breath mixed with the feeling of his beard scraping over her sensitive skin making her chuckle. It was a reaction so unexpected, so natural and uninhibited that it made the moment that much more special.

Jon joined in, lips closing over her soft skin, clearly enjoying every reaction he got from her, loving that he was able to make her smile and that she was...happy. He felt Daenerys's fingers lacing through his hair, relished in the feeling as he started placing hot, open mouthed kisses over the exposed skin of her heaving chest.

Breathy moans escaped her lips as she tugged Jon closer to her breasts and he complied, latching his lips onto her hardened nipple. There was a blazing yearning coursing through her and she let out a loud moan, feeling Jon's tongue circle her nipple before closing his teeth over it, then his lips and he sucked hard, making her back arch off the wall completely.

He was still holding her, her legs wrapping around his and trying to keep her upright at the same time. Yet she was assaulted by so many ripples of pleasure that she was certain her legs could not hold her much longer. Her head was spinning as Jon paid so much attention to her tender breasts, his mouth closing over her nipples and tongue darting to taste her, sending shocks of pleasure through her.

Her nails were scraping his scalp lightly, descending on his neck and shoulders, not knowing how to hold onto him better, but more so, enjoying the groan that spilled from his tongue at her actions.

They were both panting, skin on skin.

When Jon pulled back to look at her, she lost her patience, her fingers interlaced with his, pushing back from the wall and drawing him closer to the bed, slowly turning so that she could lightly push him back to sit on the edge of the bed. Jon watched her, his eyes drawn to hers and he stood there, mesmerized at the sight of her glorious naked body.

The last thing he expected to see was the most powerful woman, his Queen, _kneel_ down between his legs and look up at him as her fingers wrapped slowly around his cock.

Daenerys watched him as she kneeled, not being lost on her how it was the first time that she had actually kneeled for a man, the surprise clear on his face also. She felt heat sinuously slide through her veins at seeing the way that he looked at her, the action of kneeling getting a whole different meaning.

She wanted to make him fall apart under her touch, to see his expression as she'd pleasure him, to _taste_ him and be the one to please him, to give him as much pleasure as he had given her.

Tentatively, and driven by the intense dark look in his eyes, Daenerys leaned over him, her tongue darting out to flick against the wide crest of his cock. Jon thought that he would die right then, the view of her combined with the rush of pleasure he felt being almost too much. _This_ he had not expected, not even heard of before and, by the tentative look in her eyes, she had not experienced this either. He liked that, he knew that she would not have kneeled for anybody.

Jon looked down with eyes that glittered with lust and tenderness. He could not even react, too captivated by the sight. It was mind blowing.

The tip of her tongue traced a pulsing vein up to the head, her lips brushing over the soft warmth of his length, agonizingly slow. She was enthralled by the smooth feel of his cock under her lips, by the illicit taste of him.

Her mouth encased the tip of his erection, her lips flowing over the wide crest and her gaze met his as she pulled him deeper. Dany's lips closed around him, sucking him and moving back up, a low moan coming from her throat as she tasted the small trail of creamy pre-ejaculate that coated her tongue, relishing in the unknown flavours that had her taste buds on overdrive.

She looked up at him then, as her mouth lowered again, feeling a searing hunger, a need for more of him and seeing the look on Jon's face, she couldn't tame her urges anymore. Her mouth was back on his member, slow, her tongue tasting him and circling the tip of his cock.

She heard the loud groan spill from Jon's lips and she looked up at him, repeating the move and making him lose his mind at the assault of sensations. He couldn't describe the feeling, but it was overwhelming and, as her lips closed over his cock, he lost himself.

Jon let out a shuddering breath, his fingers trying to tangle in her hair, frustratingly enough she still had the intricate braids so he settled for caressing the side of her face, entranced. Daenerys smiled at his response, relishing in feeling the satiny softness of his heated flesh on her tongue. She loved to see that she was affecting him as he was affected her.

Hollowing her cheeks, she took him deeper, lips closing around his girth, sucking, then slowly pulling up to the crown. She repeated the move, enjoying the soft groans that he made and looking up at him, loving the rapt attention of his fiery gaze on her. His hips churned, allowing her to control him fully, one hand fisted in the sheets on her bed and the other holding her head.

He watched her with darkened eyes, captivated by the erotic sight and clearly too aroused and filled with too much need to even form a word. Jon could not even think, his whole body humming with pleasure, all the nerves in his body focused on his cock, on Daenerys's mouth on him, on her talented lips and tongue.

Daenerys didn't think she ever could get enough of him, it was so thrilling to bring him pleasure, to see the full effect of her ministrations morphing his features with pleasure.

His pleasure meant so much to her, because it was real and raw.

"Gods, Dany!" He couldn't hold back with her because he wanted her beyond reason. And the feeling was mutual, because they were becoming undone.

Her fingers tightened around him, feeling the thick veins throbbing beneath the smooth skin. A ragged sound tore from his throat and salty warmth spurted on her tongue and she pulled back to fully enjoy the taste. He was close, his face flushed and his lips parted with gasping breaths. Her excitement mounted along with his because that feeling of having control over him was intoxicating, overwhelming her senses.

Jon was completely at her mercy, near mindless with the need to climax, his neck arched, his breath exploding from his lungs, yet it was not what he had wanted, he wanted to be connected with her.

The pounding in her clit and the needy clenching of her core was driving her mad, her own body hungry for release from what she was doing to Jon.

She heard his groan and then felt the way that his legs tensed, his hands abruptly bringing her up and he moved up on the bed, holding her body flush to his. Pleasure was washing over him as she smiled up at him, her hand cupping his face, understanding what he had wordlessly asked her. Her leg came between his, wanting to still be connected to him, her body perfectly aligned with the side of his, feeling so delicate and soft against him.

Daenerys kissed his chest, fingers having mapped out his scars and, now, following them with her lips and tongue. It was so intimate and meaningful to him, almost too much after what she had done to him. His fingers trembled as he lifted her head to meet her eyes and to kiss her lips, tasting himself on her tongue.

She loved that it seemed to be an experience that he enjoyed - very much so, but that he interrupted to share the pleasure with her.

By the time he pulled her up, _she_ was the one gasping and trembling, more than aware that she was as close to falling apart as he was. Yet, he didn't want to come like that, he wanted to feel her around him, to give her pleasure and the fact that he was such a generous lover was something that Daenerys was not used to.

Their connection was strong, passionate and unbreakable and it was about to get even stronger because she was giving him her full trust with everything, with her body, her mind and now she could say that with her heart, too. It was a moment of release for both of them, a moment of truth and surrender to their love and they were both aware of that. It was absolutely clear that they had actually built something more...

Their lips fused into a hard kiss, a kiss in which they both poured everything they had. His hands cupped her face and her fingers slid over his neck and threaded into his curls, pulling him closer, devouring his mouth and savouring the connection they had.

There was nothing that was not intense between them and the kiss they shared was no exception. It was like lust rippling through their bodies, that raw need for more contact, for more _everything._ Their tongues collided as their hands roamed over exposed skin, desperate, craving. There was that primal urge to posses, to consume each other.

He was hard as she grounded her hips into his and she gasped at feeling him so warm and ready.

Both their bodies needed the ultimate connection to be completely satisfied. She was desperate to have him inside her, had been aching, trembling since he had entered her room.

Their breaths mingled, urgency clear in their actions, in their heated kiss as he gripped her body and turned them over, her legs parting to accommodate him. He lifted her up as she tightened her arms around his neck, her breasts crushed against his chest deliciously, mouths seeking each other's.

Their bodies were so intimately aligned and he positioned his erection at her entrance, moaning into the kiss when he bucked his hips to allow only the tip to enter her. She was so wet for him, so tight and warm that he knew nothing could ever be the same after this. They fit together perfectly and only with each other they could feel complete.

Daenerys felt the first thick inch push inside her, spreading her open just as his tongue entered her mouth.

The sudden assault had almost made her come right then and there, not having expected it to feel so good, but her body was begging for release, ready to take everything that he was giving her. He slammed his hips onto hers, making her cry out as he pierced her deep and stretched her almost unbearably. Her hands were shaking, exploring his back and shoulders, her body feeling every one of his muscles tightening.

Her hips circled, seeking that perfect pressure and she almost cried out when he stilled deep inside her, muscles tight, hand cupping her face. Jon pulled back from her lips, scorching gaze meeting hers with an intensity that reached its peak and with such clear love that made her melt. They were connected in every possible way, so profound, so complete.

They didn't need words, the pounding of their hearts and their piercing gazes were enough. They both knew. They loved each other. Desperately.

Their eyes locked, all that passion and urgency and love culminating in this precise moment. They were completely in love, completely united and nothing else mattered. They would face everything, everyone together.

Daenerys felt her heart swell, eyes gazing into his with such tenderness and adoration. His fingers caressed her temples, watching her, lips parted and swollen and eyes so sincere that he couldn't breathe. His magnificent Queen was gasping in pleasure under his body, relenting her power to him, giving herself to him, baring her soul as she had her body and loving him as he loved her.

Chest heaving with every shuddering breath, Jon looked into her eyes, every part of him bound to her. She was extraordinary in that moment more than ever.

She shuddered as she saw the look of unbridled passion in his eyes, _love_ , it was almost too much, too intimate, yet she wanted this with him. Daenerys had never felt like this before, she was giving herself to him, completely in a way that was foreign to her, infinitely more profound than anything she had experienced.

Jon Snow was her equal in passion and drive and he was the man that had made her _fall in love_. So many emotions surged through them, both in relief and desperation.

Now she had so much more than she had asked from him, all that she wanted, all of _him_.

There was no need for words between them. All that they had avoided had caught up to them. They weren't supposed to find each other but they did. No matter how hard they tried, even if they knew that it was probably wrong, right now there was nothing that had felt more right.

Intense and intimate he watched her, both of them panting and trying to convey in their gazes the immensity of their feelings.

A sheer coat of sweat misted her body, even with his lips separated from hers she was barely able to breathe. It was all too much for her to take, her body was stormed by every sensation and her heart soared with devotion.

She whimpered, the sensitive tissues inside her rippling greedily around him as his mouth descended back on hers with renewed fervour. Dany's hand curled over his shoulders, her tongue stroking his, lost in feeling as his hips started moving, pleasure blazing through her.

Her sex stretched around the delicious hardness, sucking him deeper with every thrust. She heard his breath catch on a muffled groan, and then he was taking her, possessing her and making her his.

He savoured the feeling of her inner muscles clamping down on him as he felt just how tight and warm she was. It was like velvet wrapping around his cock and the softness of her skin on his was spreading chills of sensual gratification through his body.

Daenerys almost cried with the pleasure of it, her entire body shivering with delight as he made her lose her mind. The wide head of his gorgeous cock was rubbing and tugging at tender, hyper-stimulated nerves. The pressure built and built, brewing like a storm, Jon's eyes so dark and ardent only watching her, their connection stronger and more intense than ever, both in body and soul.

She gasped, stretched tight with anticipation as he moved faster and harder against her, the sensations invading her flesh.

Her hands were all over him, trying to bring him closer, one of her legs sliding up to the sinful hardness of his ass, clutching at his flesh, pulling him deeper. Jon's cock twitched inside her, every restrain dissipating as he looked into her eyes. He came hard and brutal. Semen burst from the tip of his cock as he emptied himself in thick, hot bursts, flooding her insides, her entire body shaking, triggering her own release.

She closed her eyes just for that one brief second, feeling the carnal knowledge, _intimacy_ of the moment reach its peak. There was no other thing that could be more significant than this. They were eye to eye, faces only inches apart, connected in every single way possible, having experienced something so raw, so perfect.

"Jon!" She came with a hoarse cry of his name, her entire body convulsing in fierce, delicious tremors as the relief exploded through her.

Her eyes meeting his as her orgasm ripped through her ferociously, wave after wave of pleasure surging through her. Her body convulsed and climaxed at the overwhelming fullness. She was nothing but sensation—every part of her body was assaulted by wracks of pleasure.

Eyes focused solely on him, her lips parted as her breath came in ragged pants, her cheeks flushed and her body still wracked by delicious spasms.

The orgasm lasted forever, her insides burning and Jon was tireless, extending her pleasure with the perfect thrusts she'd been so frantic for. Her head fell back, neck arching. Leisurely and trying to steady his breathing, he kept sliding into her, so slow, finally resting all his weight onto her, body sliding over hers and igniting more pleasure from the friction of his chest over her breasts, his face now buried in the crook of her neck, lips brushing and breath fanning hotly over her skin.

Daenerys moaned as Jon explored the side of her neck with his talented tongue, both shattered with pleasure, but not able to stop. He was still hard inside of her, still driven by his insatiable need for her and his hand sneaked between them, fingers sliding over her clitoris as his lips returned to hers.

A soft gasp of surprise spilled from her lips as she felt his fingers massage her throbbing clit. Her fingers threaded through Jon's hair, lost in their passionate kiss and the burst of pleasure from his touches. Her insides clenched around him, her breath soughing from her lungs as the overwhelming pleasure was shattering her to pieces. It was so exquisitely torturous that her back arched off the bed as she came again.

He watched her, admired every feature that portrayed the pleasure he made her feel, the moment of her undoing.

Jon's hands reached for hers and she squeezed them tightly, still absorbed in rapture. He lifted her hands over her head, pinning them to the bed as she opened her eyes to look at him, dazed and tired, but still craving him with the same intensity.

He pulled back to the tip, stopped and watched her, their connection stretching into unknown territory, stronger than ever and more ardent.

His abs tightened as he slid into her, excruciatingly slow, his eyes on her face as he pushed carefully through swollen tissues.

Her neck arched as he slid deeper into her, a low sound escaping her because it felt so intimate. As worn out and over-stimulated as she was, she still craved him. Her body was assaulted with constantly increasing pleasure as he kissed her so gently, the softness of his kiss being the complete opposite of how their lower bodies worked themselves into a frenzied high.

Passionate drives, slow and deep alternating with faster plunges had pleasure building in both their bodies to an acute climax. As they both came crashing into the abyss of pleasure, their bodies finally stilled, their breaths mingling together, bodies trembling and hearts beating as one.

Jon collapsed on top of Daenerys, his body finally satisfied and he felt her hands wrap around his shoulders, holding him pressed against her.

"Stay." She whispered as he tried to move off of her, not to crush her delicate body. She wanted to feel him, his warmth on her, his cock still inside her.

They stayed like that for what seemed like hours, her fingers delicately caressing through his hair as his cheek rested on her soft breast, their bodies in an intimate embrace, joined completely.

When he lifted his head to look into her eyes, he smiled, her fingers so gently running over his face, almost reverently, tucking a strand of his hair and then resting on the side of his neck. Jon propped himself up on his elbow, his other hand still holding hers and bringing it to his lips.

"I am yours..." Dany whispered, her eyes so intense.

"And you are mine" She continued, the words leaving Jon in awe.

The magnitude of what she was saying shook him to the core. Those words were the vows of marriage, of something so decisive, so grand that he had never thought he would hear them uttered _to him_ much less from _her._ Did she even know?

Daenerys watched as different emotions crossed Jon's eyes, from shock to hope and she tried to convey with her eyes that she was aware of what those words meant. And just from his reaction, she felt that tender ache in her heart. She truly did love him.

Seeing her eyes fill with tears, over that utter devotion for him, Jon was mesmerized by her. A small chuckle escaped her lips as one lone tear escaping her eye, the moment so overwhelmingly beautiful.

"I am yours and you are mine, _my Queen"_ Jon whispered slowly, yet compelling, his thumb brushing away her cheek as he cupped her face, pouring all of his love for her into his words.

"My _King_ " Dany responded, her tone queenly, letting him know just how serious she was.

Hearing that, Jon could barely breathe. His eyes focused on her, wide and dark with sheer devotion for her. He did not know how to react. She was still smiling so sincerely that he could only respond in the same way, both of them leaning closer, kissing, laughing in pure joy, losing themselves between the sheets for the rest of the night.

A true Queen in the hands of her true King.

 **GODS! This has been immensely difficult to write, thus the later than late update, but I wanted it to be perfect, both expressing thoughts and actual physical bliss.**

 **Hope I did them justice, and that it was worth the wait so please let me know what you think of this.**

 **Thank you very much for reading and leaving the most motivating reviews! Keep them coming!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:**

Tyrion _feared_ , after his talk to Cersei, that her attitude: 'Hang the world' would be the same attitude that Daenerys would adopt if there was to be a relationship between her and Jon.

He feared that, the same selfishness would come over Daenerys once there would be a life and death situation where she would have to make a decision between Jon's life and the whole world's best interest. He had already seen a glimpse of how that would be, when she flew beyond the Wall.

Seeing the selfish attitude that Cersei adopted, for her child, he was even more concerned that Dany and Jon might get the chance to procreate. Maybe concern was not the best word, he did not think that a child could ever be a concern, yet, the timing was bad. He had already spoken to Daenerys about the succession for the Iron Throne, her insistence on not being able to bear children not having convinced him. He had seen his fair share of 'wonders' and he wanted nothing more than for her to be a mother, to have children, but the moment was _dreadful_. It would make _her_ vulnerable, make them all vulnerable.

They were at war now. He had wanted her to have the problem of the succession settled, but not in the middle of the biggest war in history.

Until she had met Jon, Tyrion had been certain that she would put the needs of the people first, would think of what was better for the people, what would ensure their freedom. Now, he saw that she might think with her heart instead of her brain, might make her decisions based on her feelings for Jon. And love in times of war was not the best ally.

So there he stood, conflicted, in front of her door, having seen Jon enter her chamber. He wanted Daenerys to be happy, to love and be loved and Jon Snow certainly seemed to be completely in love with her, yet, there were so many complications that would ensue. So many things that could go wrong, he only hoped that they could all survive to find out. Still, there was nothing that he could do now except think of some strategy to have in the war to come, to try and make the best of the situation, to think that their connection could be a strength, not a liability.

* * *

The night had passed in a blur, simply because it had all been so intense, had been overwhelming to finally give in. Her mind was assaulted by images of Jon's eyes, the way that he looked at her when he came, the passion and devotion with which he had made her his, the powerful drives of his lower body, the rasp touch of his beard over her skin and then his lips on her, kisses so intimate and intense.

Daenerys had had a good, resting sleep for some time, yet when she had awoken it was still dark outside, fire still burning in the room, her body so exquisitely sore, yet relaxed. Strong arms were enveloping her in warmth. She slowly sat up against the pillows, clutching the sheets to her chest, just watching Jon, taking in the sight. He looked so peaceful, so handsome, so young and she smiled, watched how his chest rose and fell with every breath, his body only covered in the sheets on her bed.

Her feelings for him were very clear. She loved him.

She was feeling such an unguarded happiness, yet felt like she wanted to cry. This man sleeping so soundly and peaceful next to her, so beautiful and devoted...he had given up so much: his title, the very thought of a family _for her_.

He did not deserve this yet he had looked at her with such love, had essentially pledged himself to her, had looked at her as if she would be all that he would ever need and she could not deny that she felt the same. She felt so alive with him, so loved and so at peace even if they were at war. Jon Snow had made her feel _safe_ after she had tragically felt what it was like to lose something so dear to her in such a horrifying way, after she had felt fear to the depths of her heart.

Standing up from the bed, sheets pooling off of her body, Dany finally felt the bite of the cold air. After she located and put on her robe, she went to stand by the fire. Looking into the flames always helped her calm down and think and it was also her new source of warmth now that she was not enveloped in Jon's arms. Proceeding to loosen the intricate braids of her hair, her thoughts started to wander to more serious matters.

Times were difficult, dire.

Yet, in these moments she was happier than ever. She wanted to have a life with Jon, even to marry him as her words had so intimately insinuated earlier that night.

They weren't certain of their future, but she wanted to make sure he knew how much she loved and appreciated him, too. She did not regret her words. Jon was her King, a man that the people have chosen to lead them, an incredibly powerful commander and she would make sure that whatever happened she would keep him safe.

He was the one she wanted to rule _alongside_ as equals, yet if anything happened, she knew that only Jon would ensure that her legacy would remain, that her ideals for the Seven Kingdoms would be continued. The people would listen to him, he would rule like she would have. If anything happened to her, he would ensure that the people would survive, would live _free_. Everything that she had fought for would not be in vain.

Dread had encased her heart because she knew she was not a warrior, she was not used to having to fight, to go into battle directly, yet she knew for a fact that she would not stand back now. Not in this war. She would _lead_ her armies, riding her dragon and giving them a chance, giving them _hope_ even if she would risk everything, risk her life.

It was not unusual lately for Daenerys to have such dark thoughts, had been kept awake many nights with thoughts of what would happen after her demise. She was rational, _needed_ to be so, had learned to assess and consider every possibility, had trusted people to advise her yet had ultimately made the decisions herself. This situation was not different because she needed to be prepared, to think about everything that could happen and find ways to prevent terrible outcomes. So she had thought of everything.

Everything _except_ finding Jon and falling completely in love with him.

There had to exist a plan in advance, she had to think of the worst thing that could happen and prepare a solution for that. She needed to ensure the perpetuity of her beliefs. And knowing that she would not have children, the ever present hollow place within her chest grew, she dreaded having to think about this, had not thought it would be necessary to do so soon, yet...she needed to.

She wanted a successor.

She could not imagine anyone else taking her place- a place as Queen that was not yet _hers_ officially in all of the Seven Kingdoms. Yet, she had no doubt that if anyone could be fitted to rule, to be her successor, it would be Jon Snow.

He was the strongest and most selfless man she had met, a man brave enough to fight, to lead people into battle against the dead and even pet her most fierce dragon and survive to tell the tale. A man that had come back to life, that had survived Beyond the Wall and came back to her, a man that people were following into battle, fearless, a man so formidable that had earned her complete devotion.

He was destined for greatness.

Daenerys's eyes watered, she did not want to think about anything tragic happening, not after they had finally found each other. She would still probably be reckless. She did not even know what to expect from herself anymore, yet, she was going to prepare, to protect her people, to protect her dragons and Jon.

She kept wondering about her children, she had already confessed so much to Jon and had seen the way that even her dragons accepted him, which was as much mesmerizing as it was surprising. The roaring echoing through the night warmed her heart. She had a special connection with her dragons, that was why she was so adamant and wanted nothing more than to avenge her fallen child, to burn the Night King and his army.

Everything that she had thought about her strengths and the invulnerability of her dragons had needed to be re-thought once she had seen Viserion fall. Dany now knew that they were all vulnerable, that they needed to be prepared for everything. Hope was still present, she believed in the power of her blood, the blood of the Dragon, that they would bring Fire and Blood to the murderers of her child.

They were going to end the Night King and his army forever. Together, they could prevail. They had hope.

* * *

Jon was a heavy sleeper for such a diligent leader or he had been too exhausted from their intense interactions from the night because he did not even flinch as the dragons roared in the sky above them. Daenerys smiled sadly, looking back out the small window, barely discerning the silhouette of her dragons against the darkness of the night. It was good to feel that they were still close, to hear them and know that they were still here.

As she turned her attention back towards the bed, she watched Jon, his body an amazing display of taut flexing muscle, contours evident even under the sheets, face calm, yet brows furrowed. The small scars that marred his cheeks betrayed just how much he had been through and they only made him look better, more fierce and strong.

She smiled as she headed back towards the bed, discarding her robe again and crawling back under the sheets, her head resting on his chest, hand placed lovingly over his most prominent scar. She had never fallen asleep easily, yet, hearing his steady heartbeat under her cheek and feeling the warmth of his skin on hers, Dany closed her eyes and finally slept without nightmares and visions.

* * *

When morning finally arrived, their bodies became more and more visible with the soft light, revealing the sexy contours of the couple's barely covered bodies. The sun was the only one witnessing the intimate embrace of the two, its rays kissing the skin that was left uncovered by the white sheets. It was quite a sight to behold, the way that her delicate body was carefully tucked into the warm embrace of his strong arms, their legs entangled as their bodies sought after each other, even unconsciously gravitating towards the other.

They were still gloriously naked, both seemingly much warmer in each other's arms.

Jon smiled as he opened his eyes, gazing at the beauty that was currently half-asleep in his arms. Her leg was placed high up his torso and his fingers started instinctively caressing her thigh, relishing in the softness of her skin.

There was such a strong feeling of rightness about that moment. Such a simple scene, where they were just two people that loved each other, an image so domestic, apparently normal, yet which had not been often given for them to experience.

Every single part of him was aware that he was right in calling her his, that she belonged with him.

He was drawing small circles up and down her thigh and he nuzzled into her hair, inhaling her sweet scent and making Dany slowly open her eyes, smiling as she felt Jon's hard body under hers, pulling her out of her sleep so delectably. Her body was completely draped over his, enjoying the skin on skin contact. Jon could not remember when he had been actually happy, a feeling that had been so rare, hard for him to experience in such a powerful way in his whole life.

It was strange to have such strong emotions flood into them all at once, but it felt good to be able to show each other just how much they both felt. Both of them had been thinking about their feelings and there was just something so right about being like that that made them feel complete.

"Good morn' " Jon's deep voice was still ragged with sleep.

Daenerys smiled up at him, replying in kind, enjoying the simple, homely interaction. She did not remember a time when she had woken up so rested, much less in someone's arms and feeling so loved, so cared for. It had been too long.

Their kiss was tender, both of them smiling as their hands searched each other. It was a different kind of kiss, a more innocent one than the previous they shared, but it held more emotion and sheer happiness. It was that kind of memorable kiss that a man gives his wife after coming home from a long journey; or coming home from battle, it was the kind of kiss that grandmothers told children about.

Inside her, something sighed with happy surrender and her body went lax with pleasure at being pressed so close to his when his strong arms enveloped her in his embrace.

What she felt was so much more than love- it was comfort, a feeling of _belonging_. Something extremely precious and profound.

Emotion swirled into both their hearts, no words could describe exactly what they were feeling, yet they tried to show the other. Their kiss was so raw, so loving, as if they had to, that the connection between them was keeping them both alive, that they could barely breathe without having some sort of contact.

From every nerve ending, desire was still frantic and insatiable, his need tinged with desperation, a feeling that she shared entirely. She had completely succumbed to him, seduced by the look in his eyes, the tone of his voice, rasp and ragged in the morning, the heat of his body so comforting, and the mouth-watering scent of his skin.

His hands snaked up the side of her thighs and urged her tighter against him as he pulled back to look into her eyes, his intense gaze capturing hers, making fire spread through her veins as he trailed the contours of her neck with his tongue. The closeness of their bodies was intoxicating and she shuddered as she felt every tight muscle from his chest down to his thighs that came into contact with her body.

When Jon pulled her head back, fingers sliding into her unbraided hair easily, angling her head to the side, she sighed in pleasant approval. In wonder, he touched her silver locks, her whole look so unguarded in that moment, so special because not many people got to see her so relaxed. Her exposed neck was tantalizing, too inviting to not run his lips all the way to her shoulder and back up to her ear over and over, tongue darting out to taste and excite, his beard scraping so hotly over her sensitive skin.

Daenerys felt the heat gather in the deepest parts of her body under his darkened gaze and the possessive, yet tender hold that he had over her body. Jon was completely dominated by the need to touch her, to feel her soft skin under his fingertips, to caress and kiss every inch of her gorgeous body.

She felt a new wave of desire course through her as his hot breath skimmed over her skin, making her swallow hard.

His lips descended on her neck and his hands travelled up her waist, brushing under and over the soft mounds of her breasts, touching, fingers tightening around her flesh and driving her mad. Aching for his touch, her breasts were overly sensitive and her need to feel more of him only grew hotter.

Deep inside of her, the fire of her love for Jon burned brighter than ever, just seeing the way that he looked at her, the way that he treated her, the devotion with which he touched her, the strong hold of his arms around her. Dany smiled as she shifted back, her legs now on either side of Jon's torso, straddling him and feeling the prod of his erection against her skin.

She took a moment to just look into his eyes, to focus on the intimacy of his gaze, to relish in only feeling his tightening muscles under her body. He was her perfect match in every way. His eyes did not waver from hers, yet his hands slid down her sides, slowly, caressing, in comfort and warmth- a gesture so simple, yet so adoring.

Jon was certain he would never cease to be mesmerized by the sight of Daenerys. Her beauty was beyond words, exquisite.

Hands growing bold, sliding over the curve of her behind, he pulled her closer, only her answering gasp breaking the silence. His fingers ghosted over the trembling wet flesh of her core, the tip of his middle finger rimming her cleft as desire was practically dripping from her. His other hand cupped her breast and started kneading it leisurely, his thumb flicking over her pebbled nipple, enjoying the way that Dany's eyes flickered with pleasure. He dipped his head and took one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking at the hardened peak, needing to taste her.

Warm licks and kisses on her breasts made her back arch into him, her hands coming to hold him closer. She slipped her fingers into Jon's hair, enjoying the pleasurable vibrations coming from his lips onto her skin. His fingertip slowly circled her throbbing clitoris, teasingly, making her even sleeker with the liquid desire she felt for him. That provocative touch only made the ache in her core grow hotter, pleasure and need invade her senses, raging through her system unfettered.

The sinful way that he felt her wetness on the skin of his lower abdomen was driving him insane, her hips rolling over him as his finger flicked over her clitoris. He wanted to taste her, could not get enough of her. So, in a rush of power and desire, Jon's hands gripped the outsides of her thighs and lifted her body up until she was practically sitting on his face.

Dany almost came right then, her hands landing on the wall behind his head and legs on either side of Jon's face. His hands brought her closer, his lips and tongue already indulging her, slowly licking her cleft, his tongue parting her folds to lap up her essence, then stroke over her throbbing clitoris. A surge of pleasure erupted inside her, forehead thudding against the wall, eyes shut and mouth wide open.

She was barely supporting herself on his face, too overwhelmed with pleasure as he continued his ministrations, lips closing over her sensitive clit and sucking. Her legs flexed, muscles tight as one hand lowered into Jon's hair, holding on as her hips involuntarily rolled onto his mouth. Feeling the rough small touches of his beard against her sensitive inner thighs was its own provocation, heightening her awareness of everything that he was doing to her.

Jon was invading her senses, his tongue sliding over her slit, lips closing over her nether folds and suckling, his mouth slick with the evidence of her pleasure. Her body shook with every swipe of his tongue, which rubbed over and over the clenching entrance to her body, teasing her, making her grind shamelessly into his mouth. His hands cupped her bare ass, urging her onto his tongue as he thrust it inside her in shallow dips.

Immense pleasure was raging throughout her body, feeling those sinful lips close over her bundle of nerves and suck hard. Her lips were parted, her mouth forming an 'o' shape, but no sounds came out, the pleasure being too strong to even allow her to form any coherent words.

Dany could only hear her ragged breaths and feel the answering rumble of Jon's groan of approval as she tumbled into oblivion. The orgasm poured through her in a scorching wave, slow and devastating and he held her up as her body jerked, tonguing her quivering flesh until the last tremor faded. She collapsed, head thudding against the wall, before, with a sigh of his name he slowly brought her back down onto his chest.

His hands were still on her ass and his eyes completely focused on her face. He didn't want to miss any second of the way that her beautiful face reflected the power of untamed pleasure that _he_ had given her.

Seeing his glistening lips, with the lewd knowledge of the source of that wetness on his mouth, she was already starting to recover her drive, her lips covering his and tasting herself on his tongue. The action was so illicit, so arousing that it made Jon groan into the kiss, his body being much too wound up and in need of release.

Their breaths were mingling, their eyes boring into each other's as Dany's hands came to rest on his broad shoulders as she settled her hips over his hard member, feeling it press deliciously into her skin. She was bordering on delirious with so much pleasure that she had received, but she still needed more. Her body was craving his in every way; was craving his thick column of rigid flesh filling her, his body enveloping her in the most intimate of ways.

Moving so slowly over his already twitching member, she watched his gaze darken with intense desire as she lathered his cock with the wetness of her slit. Her hips moved backwards and forwards, making sure he watched until she would finally take him inside her.

Her nails scraped gently over the skin of his shoulders, fingers trailing a heated path down the front of his chest and lower on his abdomen, enjoying the tightening ridges of his muscles under her touch. He hissed and the abrupt sound and the violent reaction behind it spurred on her desire. Her hand sneaked between them and her fingers finally closed over his aching cock, her eyes never leaving his. Jon's lips parted, his breath ragged and every muscle tightened in anticipation.

"Dany..." Ripples of raw pleasure invaded his body as her hips rose with such slow deliberation and lowered onto his member, slick heat like velvet enveloping him.

His eyes lowered onto her body and stilled on the erotic image of his cock slowly entering her. He had a clear, sordid view, wide crest sliding against the saturated folds of her cleft and dissapearing inside her, inch by inch.

She was tight around him, her insides clenching around his girth and pulling him in, feeling her insides stretch to accommodate him. Jon's head fell back, eyes rolling in the back of his head when her hips rolled so that she would take him deeper. His hands were gripping her hips, needing a moment to compose himself so that he would not finish right then.

Daenerys stilled, her body wound, skin flushed and tingling and her breasts heavy and tender. She watched Jon, feeling empowered by his reaction, loving the way that she could make him lose control. _This_ is what she'd wanted from the moment she first saw him—to have him, to climb up his magnificent body and take him deep inside her.

His palm slid onto her abdomen, pressing flat to her lower belly as he touched her throbbing clitoris with the pad of his thumb and began to massage it in slow, soft circles. Everything in her core tightened and clenched, sucking him deeper as groans echoed in the room from both their lips. She looked at him from under heavy eyelids. He was beautiful sprawled under her like that, his eyes hooded and his powerful body straining with bold masculinity.

The whispered sound of his name fell from her lips and he looked back at her, felt her fingers wrap around his hand and bring them to her breasts. He cupped her aching mounds, fingers sliding over her pert nipples and drawing a soft moan from her. Jon revelled in the magnificent sight, hands pleasuring her, his touch soft and teasing. Brushing over the peaks of her breasts repeatedly, enjoying her small gasps, his fingers moved lower, sliding under her heaving breasts and onto her back, pulling her closer. Dany's hands explored the contours on his abdomen, upwards before settling on his scars as she began to move her hips.

She became so wet and hot that she slid smoothly down the length of his cock until she'd nearly sheathed him. Her mouth travelled over the arch of his neck, tongue running tantalizingly over his skin as she felt him shudder under her. He glided easily out of her and back inside, every movement causing intense pleasure for them both.

He was so deep, the position allowing him to fill her to the fullest, that she could hardly move, but her body didn't seem to care that he was too big and she was still clenching over him salaciously. She was rippling around him, squeezing, trembling on the verge of orgasm already.

Leaning forward, she slid her tongue along the sculpted curve of his upper lip with a low murmur of delight before he captured her lips into a searing kiss. His hips churned impatiently as she lifted carefully, her lips parting from his as she looked back into his eyes. Her body slid up a few inches on his glorious member before he stopped her with that ferocious grasp on her hip and his teeth closed over her plump lip.

"Slow," he muttered, with an authoritative bite that sent lust pulsing through her.

She had not thought that she would enjoy being _told_ what to do, but hearing Jon's husky voice was beyond arousing. Her body ignited with the flames of love and passion. And she moved exquisitely slow, feeling every single inch of his cock spreading her insides, pleasure surging through her. Her muscles tightened, strained, making her even more aware of every move, every twitch of his inside of her.

Jon's eyes were once again riveted by her, looking into her fervent gaze, meeting her movements and holding onto her however he could once she started moving. He gripped her hip with his free hand, urging her to lean backward as his chest heaved with frantic breaths. The position altered her descent and her legs opened wider, accepting all of him. Immediately his body temperature rose, his torso radiating sultry heat onto her skin. His fingers were massaging her clitoris, his other hand supporting her thigh, helping her glide onto him harder. Her spine arched backwards, her breasts bouncing and harsh surges of pleasure coursed through her with every hard thrust downwards, her whole body feeling the powerful plunges of his cock.

The slow pace only enhanced her pleasure, he filled her slowly, yet his hips rose to thrust into her exactly when he was all the way inside her.

Her body was moving on top of his with such heated abandon, no longer being able to go slow as pleasure built up, sweat misted bodies trying to find release. Daenerys bent over, her breasts grazing his chest with every move of their hips. Her back arched as Jon's hands slid over her ass and pulled her onto him, hips rising to meet hers in equal force. She held herself up with one hand, the other cupping his face as their lips met, tongues tasting, enticing the other with soft licks.

Her fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him up, urging his body closer. Their lips fused together, upper bodies arching into the new position as his arms wrapped around her back and held her onto him. The frantic pace of their lower bodies was matched by the passionate kisses, both wanting more.

Dany's breath hitched when his pelvis shifted positions and his hands lifted her up again by the thighs. He was on his knees now, holding her over him, the position so intimate, allowing them that feeling of equality even in the throes of passion. They were face to face, heart to heart, joined completely. Their eyes met, bodies only stilling for that one moment to take it all in, to relish in the new position.

She lowered herself onto him smoothly, so slow, taking him into her again, feeling an oddly luscious soreness as he pushed _just_ past her limits. Their eyes locked on each other as the pleasure spread from the place where their bodies connected all the way to their toes.

It struck her then that they were both fully gone, completely surrendering to the blinding pleasure and the love and devotion... She found that excruciatingly carnal, as were the sounds he made, as if the pleasure was as extreme for him as it was for her. Maybe it was because his features were taken by the same devotion for each other, a silent promise of equality and unity.

Jon's hands were under her thighs, hers securely wrapped around his neck as she resumed her teasingly slow movements. Breasts crushed onto his hard chest, her mouth opened and whatever she was about to say got lost between her lips when his muscles contracted and lifted her up, guiding her moves, making her moan as he took control of their movements, his powerful thrusts driving her closer to falling apart. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, head thrown back as Jon kept up his sinful assault over her senses.

They could not seem to get enough of each other, hands exploring, pulling closer, hips moving rhythmically and lips seeking each other's. It was a constant pull, a constant push from both their parts.

She lost her mind somewhere along the way, riding the maddening circling of his cock, feeling the orgasm building with every slide of his long, thick girth into her rapidly melting core, primitive instinct taking over until her body was completely in charge, her mind too fogged up with pleasure.

Jon groaned into her neck, feeling that he was about to come undone so he flipped her onto her back, not missing a thrust. Daenerys's answering gasp only urged him on. His hands went under her thighs, lifting them and bending them higher so that he could reach deeper inside her, her legs almost on his shoulders.

It was too much, pleasure radiating from the inside and from the outside, where his thumb still worked skilfully on her clit. Hot waves of utter delight crashed onto her as she tightened and shook, she realized he knew her body even better than she did because his expert thrusts were the only thing that she needed to fall apart.

She was struggling to breathe and her heart was racing with all of the pleasure coursing through her veins. His thrusts became erratic, his hips clashing into hers, deeper now and faster, sending shock waves through her clitoris. Jon's hand gripped hers steely, eyes meeting as they found their release together, powerful and earth shattering.

His body stilled over hers, warm gushes of his seed filling her, the intensity of their love making leaving them both utterly spent. Bursts of his gasping breaths struck her cheeks. It was almost too much, too intense, a high that was both intoxicating and uplifting

They stayed like that, relishing in the warmth of the embrace for who knows how long.

Yet, outside their room, time had not stopped, the world was still going, there were already sounds of voices from the deck and they both knew that they would have to get out of bed eventually. They hadn't discussed what would happen now, what they would do.

As they were both finally getting out of bed, Daenerys reflected on her thoughts from the middle of the night. She wanted Jon to know, to understand.

"I want you to be my successor, Jon."

Her sudden words took him by surprise. She was helping him gather his clothes and he was not expecting to engage in such serious matters so he quickly raised his eyes to meet hers, completely shocked at what she had said.

"Don't say that. You won't die before me, I won't allow it!" Jon retaliated, hotly, baffled, his mind not wanting to process the idea that she was suggesting.

He would not allow it. He would not let her die. How could she even think such a thing possible?!

"We do not know what is going to happen, I want to be prepared for everything."

Her eyes gazed into his, completely honest and still reflecting that strong willed, powerful and strong Queenly attitude.

But before either of them could continue, there was a soft knock on the door.

Jon's body stilled at the edge of the bed, eyes wide as he looked around, should he search for a place to hide? It was ridiculous to even think about hiding, but he still did not know how to react. Dany almost laughed at his reaction, the tension in the room dissipating as she headed towards the door and opened it wide enough to still conceal Jon's glorious naked body. _That_ she would not show to anyone.

"My apologies, Your Grace, I had only come to help you get ready, yet, I shall return... later."

She opened the door only partially, hiding the man that was currently agitated and trying to lace up his trousers, but it was clear that, by the knowing little smile on her friend's face, they had not been subtle and secretive at all. Looking out at her friend, her eyes both laughing and suggesting that she knew just what was going on. Missandei quickly left, having barely covered her giggle at the situation.

"Is she going to tell anyone?"

"No, but _we_ will"

 **Thank you for reading! I hope this was worth the wait; it was difficult to write and still keep a mind that there had to be some dialogue and of course some more intimate moments... hopefully you enjoyed this chapter, so let me know!**

 **As you have noticed, my updates will be slower, once a month I assume, my schedule is quite hectic and I need to think of exactly how to get them where they deserve. Sorry about that, but we still have a long wait till the show returns, so we have time.**

 **I appreciate your amazing responses to this story so please keep on reviewing, it is really motivating! Love to hear your thoughts on this!**


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